


Our Home Below

by jupiter_james



Series: Our Home 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha!Dean, Alpha!Sam, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Castiel/Amelia Novak (past realtionship), Cop!Sam, Dad!Castiel, Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte (past relationship) - Freeform, Doctor!Castiel, F/M, Feelings Recovery, Halcyon Maine is not a real place that I know of, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, K9 cop! Sam, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mentions of alcohol, Minor Character Death, Omega Gabriel, Omega Verse, Omega!Gabriel, Ranger!Dean, Single Dad Castiel, Single Parent Castiel, alpha!Castiel, cancer mentions (past), if it is please ignore it, small town USA, switch!castiel, switch!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 89,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Statistically speaking, any two people in the world are sharing the breaking of a mating bond through some sort of tragedy at any given time. Unbeknownst to either of them, Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester become widowers at the same time, joining the statistics together. Through a change of scenery and the need to rebuild their shattered lives elsewhere due to the sudden breaking of their mating bonds, Castiel and Dean meet in their new hometown of Halcyon, Maine; population: barely a handful. Despite both being alphas, they are immediately drawn towards one another. Their shared circumstances, combined with the strong urge to scent bond, sends them both reeling. The only problem is that Castiel refuses to set himself up for the same heartbreak a second time. And no matter how hard Dean tries not to, he can't seem to come across as anything other than the stereotypical alpha jerk when confronted with the intriguing doctor. But fate keeps bringing them together, so Castiel keeps trying to figure Dean out, while Dean just plain old keeps trying.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>I'm on Tumblr! Come and say hi! <a href="http://jupiterjames.tumblr.com">JupiterJames</a>!</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 01

**Author's Note:**

> **_FIRST CHAPTER WARNINGS!_** This fic starts off with the worst of the angst and gets into fluff and A/A frustration pretty quick. The first chapter is a doozy, but I promise it's the end of the terrible, tearful angst and settles into more fluff and eye-rolling at Dean being a thick headed alpha. Chapter one is just the set-up for the rest of the story, and it has to be bad. But it's worth it! Thank you for giving it a chance!
> 
>  **Tags for chapter one are:**  
>  cancer mentions (Benny), traffic accident death (Amelia Novak), minor character deaths (off screen, they're the "past relationship" tags above), funerals, mourning, so much angst

**10:52 pm, September 3, Lawrence, Kansas**

Castiel hopes never in his life to feel this way ever again. He sits in the ER next to his wife's hospital bed, holding her limp hand, and scrubbing the tears off of his cheeks. He's trying desperately to take it all in now that the rush and confusion of trying to save her life is over. He'd wanted to help. He'd been on shift when the paramedics had brought her in. But he couldn't do a damn thing. He'd stood to the side of the exam room silently frozen while his colleagues had taken charge. His mind is still turning, but the thoughts won't stick until, almost out of nowhere, he remembers his grandfather's funeral decades ago. Despite only having been ten years old when his grandfather had passed away, he remembers it like yesterday. 

_Castiel had always been the quietest of the five Novak children. The youngest by six years. Attentive, studious, serious, and anxious in crowds. There'd been too many people there all dressed in black._

_His grandmother had found him outside in the front yard sitting on the tire swing and staring at the oak tree he loved to climb and watch the world go by. She'd said, "they're so noisy inside right now. Such a big to-do. I'm glad I found you."_

_"I'm sorry," Castiel had answered. "I don't know what else to say, but everyone's been telling you sorry all day. It sounds stupid."_

_"Castiel, I don't need you to say anything. You loved him, too, and you being quiet is a comfort to me."_

_So he had been quiet. For a long time. Until she'd said, "you're thinking very hard. And I can smell the confusion on you."_

_Castiel had turned towards her, blue eyes wide with concern. "Will you be all right? Grandpa was your bond mate."_

_She had smiled and he didn't understand then how it could be so sad and happy at the same time. "It was a lucky thing, wasn't it? You're not of age yet, so you won't understand, but finding a bond mate is a blessing, even after death. It's there with you forever. Even when it becomes just a memory."_

_"Mom said it's gonna be really painful for you."_

_She had patted his hand soothingly like he was going to be the one to suffer. "It always is when you love someone, but it's worth it, Castiel. If you end up presenting as Alpha or Omega, all I wish for you will be to find a bond mate, too. You'll feel it in your bones, and everything will be worth the eventualities. I promise."_

It doesn't feel like a blessing now. She was wrong. 

"I'm so sorry, Amelia," he whispers. "You might be the end of me."

He'd tried. He'd loved her. He'd seen echoes of his grandparents' bond, his parents' bond, in what he'd built. 

He'd never anticipated this sort of end, though he probably should have as a doctor of emergency medicine. He'd fallen into the psychological "it'll never happen to me" trap. His grandfather had faded away naturally from age. It had been hard for his grandmother, but she'd managed until her own death because they'd shared their bond to its natural conclusion. They'd made it past breeding age. To when the pheromones calmed by middle age. For most people by then, it's held together mostly by love and commitment, not chemical interactions and mating imperatives. Suddenly breaking a bond in prime mating years is much, much different. 

Castiel's heart is already breaking, his hormones already roiling in withdrawal as he watches the nurses cover her body. His colleague who had attended to Amelia, apologizes and looks sincerely regretful. 

But his wife has been dead for more than an hour. She'd died instantly in the car accident. They haven't told him as much, but Castiel knows, even without seeing all of her injuries. He'd felt the moment. It's an old wive's tale, but his grandmother had believed it, and so does he.

_I love you, Amelia. I love you. Loved you. Will always. Please don't be guilty. I'm broken now. Forever._

He reaches under the sheet and takes her hand one last time. "Rest in peace, Ames. For both of us." He leaves the room only when one of the nurses; an omega with truly calming pheromones, touches his shoulder and leads him back to the waiting room.

Gabriel is there and he's reeking of distress. His voice is barely audible. "Castiel." He hasn't used Castiel's real name in ever.

"She's gone," Castiel says. His voice is flat. He winces when Gabriel's distress strengthens. But it changes when his older brother takes him in a long, gentle hug. Castiel's own alpha pheromones trigger Gabriel's caretaker omega ones, and Castiel is grateful for that. Gabriel's scent has always been nice to him. Ginger and sweet. He sags into his brother's arms, and Gabriel takes the initiative to get them out of the hospital's cloying atmosphere of pain and sadness. Castiel stops them near the doors, though. He's forgotten... he tries to speak. Clears his throat and finally croaks, "funeral home. Have to transport..."

Gabriel squeezes him tighter. "Hang on, bro. I got this." He gets them outside and Castiel is thankful for the fresh air. He sinks down onto a bench and Gabriel goes back inside, promising to be back in a minute. He's going to arrange to have Amelia moved. Castiel feels even more terrible about it, burying his face in his hands. He can't even manage to do these final things for his wife.

They depart the hospital grounds shortly thereafter, though Castiel doesn't even notice the passage of time anymore. He can't decide what to do. His body feels incredibly numb. Somehow, sounds aren't making sense. Words mean nothing. There also seems to be a disconnect between his eyes and his brain. Distantly, he knows that he shouldn't drive anywhere, not that he wants to return home, exactly. He... just doesn't know what to _do_. The only thing of any substance to him right now is the horrible gaping emptiness and craving he has for his wife. It doesn't help to touch her ring in his pocket. He slips it over his pinky finger. Amelia had always had such small fingers. 

He finds himself staring at the small park across from the hospital. It's empty this late at night, but well lit. Gradually, things come back to him as He walks slowly through it, Gabriel trailing at a distance behind him. He remembers, somewhere, having read about the sorts of statistics he finds himself a part of now. And a vicious sense of satisfaction takes hold when he realizes that out there in the world... no, not just the world... in this very country, in this very _state_ , someone else at this very moment in time, is suffering a broken mating bond through early death the same as him. 

**10:52 pm, September 3, Lebanon, Kansas**

"Mr. Winchester, it's time."

Dean looks up from his folded hands, eyes dry and itchy from days of tears. It's time. He tries not to think, _finally_. It's been such a long time, though.

He stands and allows the doctor to lead him to the hospital room his mate's been ensconced in for nearly a week now. It's a formality. Dean could walk to that room blindfolded.

He takes his seat next to the bed and entwines his fingers with Benny's. They're so cold. He can't even remember the last time that they were warm.

"Love you, babe," he says. 

He's not sure how he's supposed to act in this situation. The forms are signed. The DNR. It's been in the works for a long time. If he had to admit it to himself, he'd say that he's known Benny's been gone since they first arrived here. Letting go has been the hardest part. But that should have been days ago when Benny had collapsed for the last time. He'd wanted to die at home and Dean should have allowed that. They'd talked about it when his remission had ended and the bone marrow transplant had failed. It had all been set up neatly, all the steps laid out so that there would be less trouble. Less to think about.

But Dean had panicked. Let the machines keep Benny alive when his soul was already gone. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm being selfish. But I'm making it right, I promise." He kisses Benny's knuckles above his wedding ring. Carefully, Dean slips it off his finger and places another kiss over the pale indentation left behind.

He'd thought he was stronger than this, but he's not. He couldn't let Benny go while the mating bond was so strong. It's starting to fade. Starting to make all of his muscles ache. It's how he knows he's held on too long. Benny's scent has totally disappeared over the week. Tonight, it's nothing. No more wet leaves and wood smoke. He's gone, and Dean's ready to admit he's kept the rest for far too long.

"You told me to try to be happy, but I don't give a shit about that. I really don't. Dunno what I'm gonna do without you."

He holds Benny's hand through the whole process, though there's shockingly little to it. The doctor disconnects the life support machines and at 5:03 am, his bond mate is gone forever.

Vaguely, Dean's aware of his brother entering the room and helping him to his feet. He can barely stand, vision blurry with exhaustion. He's so fucking _tired_. His voice slurs when he mutters, "this really sucks, Sammy."

Sam doesn't say anything. Just wraps his arm around Dean's shoulders. Fresh air and ocean breezes calm Dean's alpha somewhat. He closes his eyes and imagines he's somewhere else. It's a little weird letting his little brother be his rock, but they've always been that for each other, especially when Dean had needed someone to rage at after Benny's diagnosis. Without his brother, he knows he wouldn't have been able to be so strong for his mate.

"It's all taken care of," Sam says softly. "I'll get you home."

It's a fucking mausoleum there. "Can I... don't make me go home, man."

Dean smells the spike of grief from his brother. "I won't."

It suddenly strikes Dean how _tall_ Sam's gotten as his brother leads him out of the hospital for the last time. Never again. As long as he doesn't have to go home.

xxXXxx

It's raining in Kansas on the Friday during Amelia Novak's funeral. Black dresses. Black suits. Black umbrellas. Black sky. Castiel doesn't mind at all. The cliches all suit him just fine. He sits in the large cathedral under dim lighting while the priest celebrates Amelia's life in solemn tones. He bows his head and prays. Not for anything specifically, but simply speaks to God as best as he can. His family and friends surround him and place their hands on his shoulders every now and then when they notice his tears, but for all intents and purposes, he feels only himself and God.

_What do I do now? Where is this pain supposed to leave me?_

He expects an answer, because he's always gotten them in some way or another, but for now, there's nothing. Just the rain and the priest and Amelia's closed casket resting amongst expensive flower arrangements donated by the church and the community.

As the priest begins the last words, Castiel leans forward until his forehead touches the pew in front of him. _Please answer me soon, Father. I would never wish to sin against the blessing of life that you've given me, but I am on the edge. You know that. Please help me._

Somehow the graveside service is much easier. It's a short drive through the impressive church property, and Castiel sits in the back of the black stretch limousine between his mother and father, Gabriel, Michael, and Anna across from them, trying their best not to stare with pity.

Naomi takes Castiel's hand. Her mascara has run with her tears, and for once, she seems not to care at all for her appearance. "Will you please come home with us, Castiel?" she asks softly.

"You don't need to worry so much about me," he answers. Though, she probably should.

She grasps his hands tighter, almost painfully. "I would enjoy having my children under the same roof again."

"Naomi," Cain admonishes mildly.

"I'll stay," Anna offers. 

Gabriel slings an arm over her shoulder. "I'm in."

Michael shrugs with a sad smile. "No one's made fun of my pajamas in a long time."

Castiel looks down at his shiny black dress shoes. "Thank you." 

The limousine stops and the family emerges from the back one by one, church members already there with umbrellas for all of them. Castiel, Michael, and Gabriel part with the family to perform their pallbearer duties with three other church volunteers. As they carry the casket over the wet asphalt and into the squelching grass, Castiel is surprised that it's not heavier than it is. It had looked so heavy before.

The service is short. It's chilly now that fall is in the air, and everyone huddles together in the rain. Finally, Castiel places a single red rose on top of Amelia's casket. He turns his back and nods to his mother. He can't watch the rest. He returns to the limousine and waits silently, shivering as the rain water soaks through his coat and jacket and shirt. He thinks idly that it's going to be a very long winter.

xxXXxx

It's insultingly sunny during Benny Lafitte-Winchester's Saturday funeral. The tiny, non-denominational church attached to the funeral home is packed solid and stuffy. Too bright. Dean bends his head down. The lights are giving him a headache.

He doesn't try to pray or even listen to what the reverend is saying. He never really put much stock in God, though on his worst days, he sort of likes to admit that He's out there somewhere. Not caring about His creations. It doesn't matter, really. The rest of the family, especially Benny's, are taking comfort in the ceremony. He's glad for that. If there is a God, then Benny deserves to have his case made to go to Heaven after all he's suffered. Life would be pointless and cruel otherwise. He presses his hand over his chest to where Benny's wedding ring is hanging on a gold chain under his dress shirt. It's the only comfort he finds here.

It's over in twenty minutes, and Dean is grateful. Benny asked to be cremated so that he could be returned to his family's grave site in Louisiana. Generations of Lafitte's all interred in the same place. Dean can't fault him for wanting that. They'd visited the mausoleum several years ago when Benny was first diagnosed with lymphoma. Showed him where they'd both rest side by side some day, if Dean wanted to. Matching urns, sharing the space behind the marble wall just waiting to have their names engraved. Dean had thought that it was the most peaceful and beautiful place he'd ever been. 

At the end of the service, he carefully hands off the urn to Benny's mother. She takes it and hugs it to her chest.

"You sure you won't come down for the graveside service?" She's asked him twice already.

"Sorry," Dean answers. "I don't think I can."

She understands that. Reaches out with one hand to squeeze his arm. "Don't make yourself a stranger. You're family."

"I know. Thanks." He does know that. But it'll fade. He doesn't want it to. God help him, but the bond has been the most important thing in his life. He doesn't want it to go away. But it will, and that hurts more than the rest. "Get home safely," he says hoarsely.

And that's the end of it. Sam is by his side again, leading him out unto the glaring sun and to the Impala. "Where to?" he asks.

"Just take me home, Sammy," Dean says.

His brother nods once and does as asked.

xxXXxx

On the one hand, Castiel is glad that he was talked into going back to the family home for the night. His parents have already set up the nursery for his daughter, and the housekeeper had watched over her during the funeral. She wouldn't have remembered any of it, but Castiel still hadn't wanted to expose her to the sadness. She's sensitive to the moods and pheromones of others, even if she is only eighteen months old.

He avoids his family after dinner. Even so, he's glad for the life filling the old house and surrounding him as he slips into Claire's room right before bed, sitting in the rocking chair next to the crib. He reaches through the slats and presses his finger into Claire's tiny palm. Instinctively, she clutches it in her sleep, snuffling and sticking her other thumb in her mouth.

"I love you, Claire," he murmurs. "I need you to know that first and foremost."

She sneezes and resettles.

"It's sad that you're not going to ever know your mother. She is... _was_ beautiful. Kind. She loved you more than anything or anyone. I'll do my best for you, Claire. I really will. It's going to be lonely for a while, but you'll never be alone, and you'll never want for anything. I promise."

Naomi's shadow falls over the bar of light cast into the nursery from the bright hallway. "Castiel," she says softly.

Castiel wipes his eyes. "I don't know what to do, Mother," he answers, voice thick.

She approaches and runs her fingers through her son's hair like she'd done when he was young. "I'm so sorry. This is the last thing I would have wished for any of my children. Especially you. You've always lived so wide."

He leans to the side and rests his cheek on his mother's stomach. It comforts him like nothing else has. After all this time, her rich rose petal pheromones settle deep within him and make him a little boy again. "What should I do? I feel like..."

"I know what you feel like. It's why I want you to stay so that I can watch over you."

Castiel turns his face up and smiles sadly at her severe expression. "I'm not a child anymore."

She smiles just as sadly back at him. "I know that. But you're still my son, and I'm still your mother."

"I'm going to quit the hospital."

Running her hands down to squeeze the back of his neck, she says, "I understand. There are many other opportunities available to you when you're ready."

Castiel buries his face against her again. "I love you."

She kneels down slowly and tucks Castiel's head against her shoulder, comforting him as he cries silently. The scent of his distress and mourning hurts her deeply. She's surprised it doesn't wake Claire with how thick it is. "I love you, too," she says into his dark, unruly hair.

xxXXxx

Sam picks up the whiskey bottle and examines the dregs. "How much have you had to drink?"

Dean groans and leans back in his chair. "I'm not drunk, I swear. Just a little bit to help me sleep. Benny didn't let me get trashed once we got married."

That makes Sam smile fondly. "He was good for you."

"He was a naggy bitch," Dean grumps. "Nah, I'm lying. He was awesome. Life was awesome." He covers his face with both hands. "Jesus Christ, Sam, life _was_ so awesome. What the fuck. Why is it like this?"

Sam knocks his brother's legs with his knees and Dean drops them off the coffee table. Sam plops down onto the couch beside him. "Is there anything I can do to help? I know I can't do much, but anything at all."

Dean rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms and shrugs. Sam's eyes are as bloodshot as his own. They both look like shit. He's sorry for taking Sam down with him. His brother had insisted on moving in, but Dean's grieving is getting to them both by now. He leaves the windows open to keep the air clear, and he buys the pheromone neutralizing spray by the gallon, but it only helps a little. They're family. They know each other too well to not be connected. "Help me pack," he says eventually.

Turning his head to face his brother, Sam says, "going on a trip?"

"I'm thinking of getting the hell out of here," he answers, staring at the muted weather channel on the TV. He can't meet Sam's eyes.

"Oh."

Silence.

"Lay it on me, Sammy."

Sam's breath leaves him in a long sigh as he melts back onto the couch. "It's only been a week."

"It's long enough," Dean insists gently. 

Instead of arguing, Sam asks, "what are you gonna do, then?"

Dean rolls his shoulders and slowly and then bends forward for his glass of water, taking a sip. "I think... I really think I just need to go."

"Where?"

He looks up and squints towards the window where the sunset is shining straight in. "I was offered a job up in Maine. Park Ranger. Jody hooked me up when I mentioned wanting to go."

"You mean that job up in Halcyon? Didn't you turn it down months ago?"

"Yeah, but it's an immediate opening now. The old Ranger, Rufus, finally retired and moved back to his hometown."

"That's..." Sam hesitates, searching for the word. "Still kind of sudden."

"I know, man. I know you think it's not the best thing to do. But, I've got to. I can't stand the noise anymore. All the people. Sam... I go out sometimes and it hits me." He thumps himself on the chest. "Somewhere just like the grocery store. All those people and they're just... _happy_. Everyone's happy. Walking around and the world's turning, and the weather's nice, and people are just doing their own thing. And I can't... I can't parse it all together. I can't get why my world crashed down completely, but everything else is totally normal. Benny's ghost follows me around. I need to get away from it."

Sam nods several times. "Do you think it's going to be the right thing to do?" He holds his hand up in defense when Dean opens his mouth to protest. "I'm not saying you shouldn't get out there and get your life back together. I'm just making sure you aren't running away."

"I _am_ running away," Dean says. "That's what I'm doing. But it's not because I don't want to face the loss. It's more like, I feel like I'll never be able to move beyond it if I don't get to neutral ground. Something. I don't fucking know." He peels off part of the whiskey label and tosses it to the ground. "I don't want to be like this forever. I can't do it. I'm doing it for the right reasons, okay?"

Sam's large hand smacks him just shy of painfully between the shoulder blades. "Okay. Let's do it."

Dean forgets to blink until his eyes start to hurt, he's so busy studying his entire face. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going with you," Sam says matter-of-factly.

Dean snorts. "No, you're not."

"Why the hell not?"

Good question. He doesn't have anything good, and Sam knows it. He's got to try, though. He doesn't want his only family left to uproot because of him. "Your life is here," he tries. "Your job, your friends, everything. You're just gonna toss all that out and follow me to Maine?"

"Sure," Sam says lightly. "I don't give a shit where I am. Dean, we don't have much in the way of family anymore. Life's short. And wherever there are people, there are jobs. If you go, I'm going, too. I'd rather do that than anything else."

"I don't need a babysitter, Sam."

With his first real smile in a week, Sam answers, "good 'cause you couldn't afford me."

The corner of Dean's lip pulls up. It feels alien. "You're the best brother a guy could ask for."

"So are you," Sam returns. "That's why I'm saying let's do this. Start packing tomorrow."

Something in Dean's chest loosens minutely. Sam's right. He's grateful. Tomorrow isn't too late to start something new.


	2. Chapter 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean settle into their new lives. An accident brings them into contact with the new town doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so bad about such a depressing first chapter, that I decided to post this next one sooner. :D It's much less depressing!

Sam walks into the Ranger station and immediately plugs his nose. "It smells like dog shit in here. Why does it smell like shit in here?"

"Because you're full of it," Dean quips back, grinning but barely glancing up from his paperwork.

"Ha, ha," Sam deadpans. "You're hilarious, as always."

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Dean answers.

"It's five," Sam says. "Time to go home."

Dean looks up properly and squints at the clock on the opposite wall. "Shit, I lost track of time. Sorry, Sammy." He scoops up his papers and shoves them back into their file folders, then answers some quick emails before shutting it all down. He stands and picks his uniform jacket up off the back of his chair. "Yo, Garth!" he shouts.

A thin faces pokes out from the door to the kitchen area. "'Sup, Dean? Hey, Sam."

"I'm outta here," Dean says. "Hold down the fort, will ya? I'm on call if you need me." He taps the radio on his shoulder.

"I got this," Garth waves them off. "See you tomorrow."

Dean tips the brim of his hat and steps out into the cold evening, stuffing his hands in his pockets and breathing in the fresh air deeply. "I'm liking it here," he says.

He really does. It's only been a month and a half, but he feels good. Not peaceful yet. Not happy. Not content. But he's definitely moving in the right direction. Garth's constant good humor grates on him sometimes, and a lot of the tourists are obnoxious as hell, but the whole picture is worth some of the annoying details. He works with Sam regularly thanks to his brother having been absorbed into the police force under Sheriff Jody Mills. He gets his privacy at home whenever he wants it. He gets seclusion in his job when he's patrolling the park and woods, turning his radio down and pretending he's out of range when Garth jabbers on over the dispatch radio when he's had too much coffee. Time is slow and life is pleasant. The people here like him, and he's more glad than ever to have left the city.

"I like it here, too," Sam agrees. "Anything fun happen today?"

Chuckling, Dean shrugs. "Couple lost morons going off the path to take Instagram pictures of the changing leaves. Lots of crowds up in the national park these days. Last gasp of camping and hiking before the snow. I used to love the fall. Now it's just annoying tourist season. Glad it's almost over."

"Jaded already," Sam smirks. "That's a good sign. Can Garth handle it by himself?"

Dean palms his keys and unlocks the Impala. "He looks like an idiot, but he's good. And Jody's on tonight at the station, right? She'll make sure he doesn't get in over his head. Speaking of which, where's that damn dog of yours?"

"Jody's on tonight," Sam agrees. "She's keeping Ianto down at the station for more training. You always say no dogs in the car, asshole. You can't play with my dog and refuse to drive him home."

"He's a _police_ dog."

"So?"

"So, he's trained enough to be practically human."

Sam laughs. "You actually like my dog? Aw, Dean, you big softie."

"Shut up. My place or yours?" The growl of the engine rattles pleasantly in his chest as he turns the car on. He can't help it if the huge German Shepherd is the best dog in the world. He's smart and well-trained, and probably the only partner who could put up with Sam on the regular. The thought makes Dean chuckle.

"Mine. That porch railing is almost done. We can knock it out before dark and cross one more item off the list."

"Sounds good."

The drive to the edge of town is nice and scenic. They'd decided to live close to each other, but not together, though Dean had needed to argue about it for a while before Sam had relented and agreed that his older brother could take care of himself. In the end they'd compromised by Sam staying with Dean until the younger Winchester had closed on his own house. It had taken nearly a month, and that had been plenty to ease them both into their new lives. Not that Dean blames him for his concern. He hasn't been in the best place lately, but living alone has given him the clarity of mind that he so desperately needed. And he's glad to have his own space that has only his scent and marks around it. 

Though he'd had to air out his home and spend a small fortune on neutralizing spray to clear out the remnants of his former mating bond that still clung to his furniture and clothing. The guilt still eats at him, as does his grief, but the seeping wound in his chest is easier to deal with when he only has his own stench to contend with. Plenty of people have told him that he can't rush the mourning process, but Dean's always been the type to rip the band-aid off, and didn't see why this situation should be any different. He can't run from the truth that Benny is dead, so facing it is his only option. And despite how it looks, Dean's not trying to forget he'd even been bonded. He's just trying to survive it. Benny's wedding ring still hangs on the chain with his own, and he never takes the necklace off. He also keeps the framed pictures of his old life prominently displayed over the fireplace. He'll never forget, and he doesn't want to. It's all about finding a way to live with it. And Sam is starting to see that. Thus the home improvements for both of their places. Gradually turning them into permanent homes. 

He and Sam have both bought fixer-uppers; Sam on an older street at the edge of town, and Dean up the hill in a cabin close to the ranger station. Going back and forth to help each other unpack and make immediate repairs on both of their houses has become the best way to get out of his own head. And Dean can't say he's unhappy having so much of his brother's undivided attention. Not that he'd say that out loud, or anything. Wouldn't want the kid to get a big head. He pulls into Sam's driveway and kills the engine, taking in the house. "It's looking good," he says proudly. They should be able to paint before the real winter weather sets in.

"Better than your serial killer cabin," Sam teases, undoing his seat belt and climbing out of the car.

Dean follows, rolling his eyes and muttering, "your _face_ is a serial killer... face." His cabin is awesome. Sam's house is lovely, too, though. Not to Dean's taste being in an historic, family-type area, but he can tell that Sam is just as content as he is with the town, despite not having chosen the area for himself. He's never had a mate, and is probably feeling the pull to nest now that he's 27. Pretty late for even an alpha to have not found _someone_. Dean hopes he can find them here, small town or not. And the house is good start. They're planning to cover the old, sickly yellow paint job with a mossy green base, and blue trim. Dean's also caught his brother working on blueprint plans for a huge garden. Flowers, vegetables, the works. He'll be living in a fairy tale house in no time. Any mate would want such a haven. 

For now, though, the table saw is already out in the driveway, wood slats leaning against the side of the garage and ready to be cut for the porch railing rods. Dean grabs his duffel out of the trunk. "Gonna go change real quick. Can I grab you a beer while I'm inside?"

"Please," Sam answers, unlocking and heaving up the garage door to access the rest of his tools. "I think installing an automatic garage door opener is next." 

"Easy enough." Dean passes by and goes inside, dropping his bag in the living room. It's still pretty stark inside. They're slowly replacing the old appliances for stainless steel, and Sam's mentioned wanting to rip out the old formica counter tops in favor of granite. That's a project for the future, though. Despite being old, the house is plenty serviceable. They need to tear down the wallpaper that's all strange, faded floral designs, but Sam's been endlessly hemming and hawing over paint samples. In Dean's opinion, some nice earth tones would be best since the rooms are so small and the wood floors are dark. 

Eyes on the prize for the moment, though. He strips out of his uniform and changes into his ratty jeans, frayed plaid, and heavy work boots. Then he stops by the kitchen for the beers. 

Sam's cutting the railings to size when Dean emerges again. He twists the caps off of the glass bottles with the tail of his shirt and puts them both on the bottom porch step.

"Want me to fire up the nail gun?"

Sam nods. "Got three more to cut. We can paint tomorrow, unless there's something we need to finish on your murder shack. How's the roof holding up?"

"Had it inspected. Roof's sound, no rotting anywhere. I'm gonna rent a power washer to clear off the dirt and moss from the siding, but the bones are good. We'll get a better idea of what needs to be fixed once that's done."

"Sounds fun," Sam says. He stops working for a minute. "Think we'll be done with the major work by Christmas?"

"Don't see why not."

"Good." He hesitates and it puts Dean on guard. He sighs when Sam continues, "Dad called. He was thinking of stopping by for a few days then."

"Okay."

"He wants to talk to you, Dean. You haven't spoken since he went down to Louisiana for Benny's internment."

There's nothing to say, really. He snaps the measuring tape closed. "I'm just... he's hard to talk to about these things."

Sam leans against the saw table. "Why? He's worried about you."

"I get that. It's just... he always wants to bring it back around to Mom."

"How's that a bad thing? He can empathize with you. Shared circumstances can help sometimes."

"I'm not ready for that yet."

Sam's eyes soften in understanding. "Maybe you should tell him that. He'll back off. Give you all the space you need."

Shaking his head, Dean picks up the newly cut wood and turns towards the porch. "I'll call him. Maybe by Christmas..." he trails off as his throat tightens. Maybe.

He clomps back up the porch stairs, avoiding the rest of the conversation. He carefully measures off the proper distances between the slats and marks them with a pencil. This he can deal with. He's not ready to go deep yet. He plugs the nail gun into the extension cord and... nothing. He checks the power supply. Damn junkyard find. "Sammy, this piece of shit is jammed again, or something."

The table saw stops. "Trade places," he calls over. 

Dean goes back to the table saw and a couple of minutes later hears the nail gun. He suspects his brother of witchcraft being able to operate the damn thing. He shakes his head and continues on, bringing the rest of the railings up to Sam. "This is the last of them."

"Thanks," Sam answers, flicking his eyes up to his brother. It's a split second that ends with a click, air hose hiss, thunk, and a pained shout.

"Holy shit," Dean breathes, staring at Sam's left hand with a shocked expression.

Sam's face is turned up and he's biting his bottom lip, trying not to scream obscenities for the whole neighborhood to hear. "I'm not looking at it," he grits through clenched teeth. "How bad is it?"

Dean creeps forward and examines the wound. One of the heavy, 7d nails is protruding from the top of Sam's left hand. Dead center. "Nice aim," he says.

"Goddammit, Dean!"

"Sorry... don't think it went all the way through. We need to get you to the hospital. Let's go."

"Hell, no!" Sam argues. He's starting to sweat with the pain, his pheromones beginning to waft panic. "What if I'm nailed to the porch! Call 911!"

"Dude, it'd take them an hour. Hang on." He crouches down and looks under the railing. He can't see the nail through the board. "Most of the nail is poking up out of your hand. You're not stuck."

"Dean," he moans.

"Trust me, man," he insists.

Gingerly, Sam lifts his hand. He sighs in relief when his hand comes up without resistance. "Hurts," he rasps, trembling and cradling his hand to his chest.

"Don't pull it out. Come on, we'll take you to the clinic. There's an actual doctor there now."

"It's a miracle." Sam gripes. He shuffles down the porch steps, wincing and still not looking at his hand. His breaths come in sharp, short bursts. Dean beelines for the trunk while Sam situates himself in the Impala. Dean grabs the first aid kit and digs out several gauze packs. He rips them open and gives them to Sam as soon as he's in. Sam places them gently around the wound to catch the blood, and also to cover the grisly wound from his sight. "Drive fast," he growls. "I swear I won't give you a speeding ticket."

Dean huffs a nervous laugh and does as he's told, gunning the engine and tearing back towards town. The clinic is right next to the police station; equipped to handle all but the worst emergencies. They're set up as an urgent care, but until a week ago, hadn't had a doctor. There were three RNs, and a volunteer doctor came up from the city on the weekends, usually a resident, but otherwise, they'd been trying to fill the position for ages. Word of a new hire had gotten around the small town, though. Dean figures it's some 70 year-old retiree, but he's not complaining when his brother is about to bleed all over the upholstery. 

The second he parks the car, Sam is out the door and rushing into the clinic. Dean follows shortly behind, and Pamela is already there checking out the wound in the reception area.

"Wow, you really got nailed," she's tutting with a teasing tone. "Can you fill out the paperwork, or leave it to Dean?"

Sam turns his best puppy eyes on his brother. Dean waves him off. "Yeah, I got it. Go on."

Pamela passes him a clipboard and Sam tosses Dean his wallet for co-payment and his insurance card before letting Pamela guide him back to the exam rooms.

Dean sinks into one of the surprisingly comfortable waiting room chairs and gets to work on the forms. He's only just filled out Sam's name when he stops. His head comes up. What's that smell? His nostrils flare and he scents the reception area. At first he'd only noticed the antiseptic spray and industrial strength cleaning solutions, but under them is... something that smells _really fucking great_. Like pine needles and fresh rain. It's not Pamela, he knows that much. She smells sort of hardcore and dangerous. The rest of the nurses and staff are all betas. They don't trigger his interest. But _this_... wow. Another patient? It couldn't be the old man doctor they'd hired. In such a small town, he'd thought he would have noticed such an amazing scent _somewhere_. Especially in the middle of town.

He draws it into his lungs deeper and gets another shock. It's not an omega at all. In fact... he sniffs again. No way, it's an _alpha_. And now that he's focused completely on the scant amount of pheromones in the air, he notices the sour tinge to it. _Oh, man_. It's like him. It smells like a stale mating bond. Must be broken. That makes sense, though. An out of towner moving to East Jesus Nowhere just as Dean had. The doctor's mate must have passed away, too. For his sake, Dean hopes it was just old age or something more manageable. 

He sniffles hard and coughs, trying to clear the scent out of his nose. Won't do him any good to get attracted to it. Dean's only 31. A retiree is well out of his age range. Plus the fact it's way too soon to even contemplate any sort of relationship.

Oh, well. He looks back down at the papers and resumes filling them out. He makes a mental note to ask Sam later what the new doctor is like.

xxXXxx

"You really did a number on yourself," Pamela says conversationally as she taps away on her tablet and leads Sam to an exam room. "How'd it happen?"

Sam explains the situation as best he can through the haze of pain he can feel all the way to his eyeballs. 

Pamela takes pity on him and makes a decisive tap on her tablet. "Let's get you something for the pain and then an x-ray. You might need surgery depending on the damage you've done. Also, a tetanus shot, unless you've had booster recently?"

"Not since high school," Sam grits out. Fuck, it hurts.

Blessedly, Pamela is swift and confident in getting him fixed up. "Have you taken any medications today or had any alcohol?"

"No, but I had a nice, cold beer waiting for me. Shot myself before I could enjoy it."

She grins as she expertly hooks an IV into his right arm. "Ain't that always the way? Okay, standard protocol here. Bag of antibiotics and fluids. Should only take an hour or so." She moves to the medicine locker and punches in the code to unlock it and pulls out two syringes and glass bottles. "Also, a tetanus booster and some pain medication. Have you eaten today?"

"Lunch at one."

"I'll get you something for a snack so you don't get sick." She measures out the medications into the syringe and injects the pain medication directly into the IV. 

A moment later, Sam feels the warm flush of it and instant relief. He groans and relaxes back into the bed. "That's so much better," he slurs.

"You're welcome," she says smugly, pinching the muscle on his upper arm and administering the tetanus shot. "Can walk to the x-ray, or do you need a wheelchair?"

"Nah, I'm good. I'm _great_. Let's do this thing." He lurches up, but Pamela eases him back with a firm hand on his chest.

"Go slow there, tiger. The shit I gave you is gonna make you pretty loopy." With her help, Sam staggers to his feet and Pamela half carries him one door down to the x-ray room. 

He thinks he dozes off for a minute while she does her thing because he's back in the bed before he knows it. Wow, he can't feel _anything_ anymore. It's _amazing_. He wiggles his toes. "What'd you gimme?" he thinks he asks.

"Nothing but the best for Officer Winchester," Pamela says. "Okey dokey, you just lay there and be high, and I'll grab the doctor. And also some jell-o or something. I'll see what we've got."

Sam's eyes pop open. "Not green!" he begs. "It looks like snot."

Pamela laughs at him. "Doctor Novak will be in soon." She shuts the door behind her and Sam closes his eyes again. It makes him dizzy in that drunk sort of way. So nice. Even the hospital bed feels like lying on a cloud. He loses track of time as he drifts.

There's a knock on the door and someone enters quietly. Sam ignores it in favor of floating until his nose is finally hit with a _scent_. It's fucking _delicious_. It takes a lot of effort, but he convinces his eyes to open. Even though the meds have given him some serious double vision, he knows enough to groggily think, _hot doctor_. But he's got to be totally out of it since he can't seem to determine whether the guy is an alpha or an omega. He distinctly smells of a wet forest. Firmly alpha, except... there's an undertone of... what? Candied apples? Sweet omega. The hell is up with this guy? And under all that, too is a hint of old mating bonds. Smells like Dean does, in fact.

Sam struggles to sit up and readjust the covers because he's fairly certain his dick isn't going to keep it professional if the doctor keeps smelling so damn good. The sweet apple smell is the best thing that's ever hit him. His hazy brain fails to stop his vocal chords from letting loose a small moan.

"Are you still in pain?" the doctor asks, radiating concern.

Oh, no. His voice is insanely sexy. Then the shift in his mood makes the fall-air smell intensify and it's... not really as good. "I'm okay," Sam answers faintly. The puzzle pieces aren't fitting together at all.

The doctor draws up to the side of the bed, blue eyes wide, shoulders stiff. That's when Sam realizes that _he's also scenting the air._ And finding something he likes there. Quite suddenly Sam wishes he hadn't taken the pain medication so he could sort through all the strange signals he's getting with a clear head.

"I'm Doctor Novak," the man says with a rough voice. He clears his throat, pauses, and is much steadier when he speaks again. "I've looked at your X-ray. Lucky shot you gave yourself." He clips the films to the light board and points to the bright spot indicating the nail. "That nail gun could have done a lot of damage, but you managed to avoid most of it. The nail is right between these two metacarpals. Nothing appears broken, though you will have to follow up with an orthopedist to ensure you have no nerve or muscle damage, which would be detrimental in your line of work if left untreated."

"Awesome. Guess if I had to fuck up, it's good that I did it right."

Dr. Novak grins and Sam's heart flip-flops. "Naturally. Well, the extraction can be done here by me. Local anesthetic is best, unless you'd prefer to be asleep for the procedure?"

"No, I can stay awake," Sam says blearily. "As long as I don't have to watch. Can I go home tonight? My brother's out in the waiting room."

Pamela enters the room again with a surgical tray that she rolls to the side of the bed. 

"Once the IV is finished, we can discharge you," Dr. Novak confirms. He stands and moves to the sink to scrub. "Along with the cleaning and care instructions, I'm also going to give you a prescription for oral antibiotics and pain medication. Are you allergic to any medications?"

"No."

Pamela bustles around prepping the tray and then Sam's arm, adjusting it on an extension slat out to the side of the bed. Then it's down to business. Sam turns his head away from the procedure and does his best to ignore what's going on. He can't feel anything besides slight pressure, and though he's not squeamish, watching surgery isn't his idea of fun. Dr. Novak is incredibly good at his job, and Sam idly wonders what drew him to practice medicine in the country. He's grateful, though. Also confused by the man's scent. It's a good secondary distraction from the gore, though.

Soon enough, Dr. Novak is leaning back on his stool and announcing he's done. Sam finally glances back and his hand is securely bandaged. "If you'd like, your brother can come back and sit with you. The IV will be finished soon."

"Thank you," Sam says sincerely.

That wonderful smile again. "My pleasure. Pamela, please get the prescriptions and discharge paperwork ready. Feel better soon, Officer Winchester."

"Sam," he corrects automatically.

"Sam," the doctor repeats almost shyly.

Then he's gone, and Sam's left to stare after him.

Pamela hasn't missed a thing, though. "Hooked?" she asks slyly.

"What? No!"

She clucks her tongue. "Yeah, right. He's a looker, all right, but not much interested in anything besides his job. Too bad. Anyway, I'll go grab Dean and get the rest of this done."

"Thanks," he says, ignoring the rest of what she'd said. It's too much to think about in his condition.

Which is for the best because Dean's slamming into the room a minute later and not bothering to be quiet about it. He's holding red jell-o and a plastic spoon up like a trophy. "What's the word?" he demands good-naturedly.

Giving his brother a thumbs up with his good hand, Sam says, "I'll live."

"Miracle of miracles!" Dean takes the seat Dr. Novak had vacated and plops the jell-o in Sam's lap. "How's the doctor? Old and dried up?"

Sam laughs. Hard. "Dude, you have no idea. He's young. _Hot_."

Dean's eyes widen. "Seriously? Fuck, now I wish I'd come back with you." His nostrils flare. "Not trying to be gross, but if that's him I'm smelling right now, I feel like going home and shooting _myself_ with the nail gun."

An unexpected surge of irritation rushes through Sam. "He's not interested," he says shortly. "Pamela said so." He tries his best to evade the curious look his brother is giving him.

"Too bad," Dean says suspiciously. "Anyway. Can you go home tonight?"

"Yeah," Sam answers, shaking off the annoyance. "Pamela's gonna bring in the paperwork." He lets Dean open the jell-o for him. "Got a couple of prescriptions."

"Want me to stay with you tonight?"

"No." He spoons the jell-o into his mouth. "It's fine." Something about Dean's reaction to Dr. Novak is raising his hackles something fierce. He figures he really just needs to sleep. It's been a damn long day.

And Dean takes pity on him. Once they've got everything signed and paid for, Dean drives Sam back to his house after a stop at the pharmacy and says, "get some sleep, all right? Text me when you get up."

"Okay, Dad," Sam quips. 

Dean waves out of the car window. "Later, bitch."

"See ya, jerk."

He drags ass inside and up the stairs to his bedroom, dropping on top of the sheets after kicking his shoes off. For a long time he stares at the ceiling thinking about the confusing doctor. Eventually he shrugs it off as some drug-induced weirdness. His mind was probably playing tricks on him. But that's all put aside near midnight when his hand starts to hurt again. A lot. He takes a pain pill dry and forty-five minutes later, is dead asleep without another care in the world.


	3. Chapter 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean have their first accidental encounter.

Castiel can't get out of the clinic fast enough once Sam Winchester is taken care of and in Pamela's capable hands. He says goodnight to her and hightails it to his office, his head an endless chant of, _too soon, too soon, too soon_. His first whiff in the room had been achingly enticing. Every part of him had responded as if starved. But the longer he'd stayed in the room, the stranger the impulse had become. The strong whiffs of cloves and camp fires had calmed towards a more airy, salty scent more reminiscent of the ocean. Which meant... he hadn't been scenting Sam Winchester at all. But definitely someone close to him because the complimentary smells had hinted. A new mate? Family member? 

He strips off his lab coat and hangs it on the back of his door. Sam had said his brother was in the waiting room. _His brother_. That must explain it. Two alpha brothers. Their parents must have nerves of steel raising two alpha sons through puberty. 

With a sudden start, Castiel realizes he's left his office without noticing and is wandering towards the reception area. He physically has to stop himself by grabbing the corner of the nurses station desk to prevent himself from chasing the scent of wood smoke to its owner. No. He can't do this. He can't be a slave to his instincts no matter what. They're not more important than his need to properly mourn Amelia and also remain a decent human being. He's not some kind of knothead. 

Every muscle in his body protests as he forcefully turns back and retreats to his office again while his brain screams for more of the delicious alpha waiting for him. Waiting for _him_. He sucks in several deep breaths, shoving the remnants of the scent out of his nose. He does his utmost to convince himself that he doesn't want to know anything about Sam's brother. It would only make things worse. He gathers his briefcase and trench coat and leaves through the staff entrance in the back.

The cold night air is a blessed shock to his system and he feels much clearer by the time he reaches his car. More after the short drive to his house. Gabriel is in the kitchen pulling out dishes for dinner. The pheromone impression of camping in the woods during a crisp fall day is fully replaced by garlic and basil. "Smells good," Castiel says by way of greeting. 

Gabriel sets the table and then goes back to the stove. "Celebration for finishing your first week of work. I was gonna make your favorite and then remembered it was peanut butter and jelly, and that's such a sad celebration. You'll have to settle for crock pot meatballs and my homemade marinara."

Grinning, Castiel shucks his jacket and says dryly, "how will I ever survive the insult?"

Gabriel winks and twirls the wooden spoon with a flourish. "In ecstasy, little brother."

Castiel seats himself at his place and fills the empty glass waiting for him with ice water that's already in a pitcher on the center of the table. He drinks long and deeply. He refills it and traces the condensation on the glass idly with his finger. "How is the B&B setup coming along?"

"Ahead of schedule," Gabriel says proudly. "I'm good at what I do." After graduating college, Gabriel had bought an ailing hotel near the family home and turned it around after a remodel and aggressive budget overhaul. When he'd come to help Castiel move into his new house, they'd driven past a dilapidated gated home that had caught both of their eyes. Castiel's because it seemed out of place in such a small, modest town, and Gabriel's because he saw a wonderful business opportunity in the sprawling New England manor. He'd chased down the owners and closed on the bank-owned property. Now he's fixing it up to open seasonally during tourist season. Currently he's planning on a soft opening right after the new year for the family, it it's ready.

"You are indeed good at what you do," Castiel agrees fondly.

Gabriel dishes up the pasta with a generous amount of sauce, large meatballs, and thick slices of his homemade garlic bread. It's honestly Castiel's second favorite food. They sit across from each other and eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then Castiel puts his fork down. "What's up?" Gabriel asks, sensing his shift.

"I never thanked you for helping me so much," Castiel says.

Gabriel's eyebrows tip up. "Hey, no worries, Cassie. I'm more than happy to. When you were moving out here, I got the impression you didn't wanna be totally alone."

"I didn't," he confirms. "Not for the time being. I needed to get away from Kansas, but I wasn't sure how to ask any of you to help. I didn't want to take you away from your jobs and your lives. You're sacrificing a lot to be here, Gabriel. I want you to know that I see that and appreciate it."

One of his eyebrows tilts down into an exaggerated look of confusion. "No skin off my back." He shakes his head when Castiel makes to protest. "And what's with you and showing affection by being even _more_ weird and formal than usual?"

Castiel can't help but smile at that. "I don't know. It's a habit."

"Clearly. Anyway, I'm serious. My hotel is fine for a month or so. If they can't get by with the boss telecommuting for a while, then I should fire them all and hire competent people. Plus, that B&B is gonna be amazing. It's one of those lucky finds I never would have stumbled over by myself. Perfect location and everything. My stay here has already been profitable."

"You're spending a few million on that place," Castiel snorts. 

"And I'll make a mint in return. Go me. Enough about that, though. Tell me all about your first week as a boring country doctor."

The first thing that nearly slips out is the scent he'd caught, but he bites the admission back. Gabriel would fixate on it and tease him endlessly. Instead, he fills him in on the fairly mundane patient visits, assuring his brother that it's far from boring. "Everyone is very nice and almost overly grateful once they hear I'm staying on permanently," he says. "I'll admit, it's taking some getting used to. I'm sure I'll have to find a hobby to fill the downtime, but I prefer setting broken bones and treating sinus infections. However, I _did_ have an interesting case today. A man shot himself through the hand with a nail gun."

Gabriel makes a grossed out face, but then bursts into laughter. "Guess you'll be dealing a lot with overly zealous carpenters, huh?"

He chuckles. "I hope not. Though, the poor man started singing show tunes to Pamela before being released."

"I like him already," Gabriel grins. "A man who can't handle his pain medication is a man after my own heart."

"He _was_ very handsome," Castiel admits slyly.

Predictably, Gabriel's eyes shine with interest. "Oh, _really_? My kind of handsome, or yours?"

"Yours," Castiel answers mildly, picking up his fork again and neatly cutting into a meatball. "He's a thousand feet tall."

"Alpha?" Gabriel makes an exaggerated shiver when Castiel nods. "Stop it, it'd be gross to pop a boner in front of my brother."

Castiel chews slowly, swallows, and keeps a blank expression. "Pamela says he's a cop."

Groaning, Gabriel drops his head to the table and makes a pained noise. "I hate it that you know me too well. Can you hook me up?"

"That would be unethical," Castiel says. "You'll have to use your own charm."

Gabriel lifts a thumbs up over his lowered his head. "Can do."

Once Gabriel recovers, the rest of the meal is a pleasant mix of talking about their weekend plans and what repairs are up next for the B&B. Castiel gathers the dishes to rinse and put in the dishwasher. Gabriel helps by putting away the leftovers. Casually, he says, "you're not planning to stay in all weekend, are you?"

"No," Castiel says. Of course, he's planned to stay in. He realizes that he can't hide away forever, but he's not ready to get out and socialize. On the other hand, if he doesn't do _something_ , Gabriel will torture him about it. "I'm going hiking," he says brazenly. It's the first thing that pops into his head, and he immediately regrets it. He hates hiking.

Gabriel closes the refrigerator and leans his back against it. He looks so suspicious that Castiel worries he'll call him on his bluff. But he doesn't immediately. "Hiking? Like, out in the woods? With the dirt and bugs and wildlife?"

Well, now, that's just insulting. Castiel squares his shoulders with a prim sniff. "There's a beautiful national park hiking trail right up the road. I've been meaning to explore it." Lies. He's not a fan of nature. But he's dug himself in way too deep with only a few sentences. 

"Whatever you say. Take lots of pictures, or... something." Gabriel laughs, still disbelieving. Before Castiel can respond, Gabriel pushes off from the fridge and says, "well, I'm off. Call me if you wanna hang tomorrow."

"Of course. Good night, Gabriel." He walks his brother out, and locks the door behind him, turning off the lights as he trudges up the stairs to his bedroom. What in the hell had possessed him to be baited by his brother? Now he _had_ to go hiking. And all he had was a worn pair of tennis shoes. Fantastic. Well, there were worse things to do on his day off than spending an hour or so hiking. He hadn't really scouted the area beyond the nature trails he went running on. Maybe he'd end up having a good time.

xxXXxx

Sunday morning dawns bright and perfect for some time in nature. Castiel frowns at his window as he rolls over and hugs his pillow tighter. He'd hoped it might rain and he'd have a viable excuse for staying indoors. Again. But it's not to be. He won't give Gabriel the satisfaction of calling him an old shut-in. Resolutely, he shoves the covers back and goes through his morning routine. On his second cup of coffee, he takes stock of the food supply. Grocery shopping. That will waste some time. He'd also been meaning to take a trip into the city for some home goods. He'd been putting that trip off as well. Driving long distances bores him to the point of road rage and almost beyond it to the point of tears. Still, he does it, and has everything unpacked and unloaded back at home before dinner. It's late afternoon and despite not having hiking boots - why hadn't he remembered to buy a pair when he was in town? - he actually _wants_ to get out and stretch his legs now. Being cooped up in the car for four hours round trip hadn't done his back or legs and favors.

That's how he finds himself at the trail head in the national park armed with a water bottle and in his grungiest jeans and flannel. At least the sun is past its peak. The weather is incredibly pleasant, most of the tourists gone for the day to eat their dinners. He passes a few people on his way, but for the next hour, he's mostly wandering up the maintained dirt path alone. It's... wonderful. The air is amazingly fresh and heavy with the wet scent of birch and sugar maple trees. The setting sun casts long shadows, golden shadows split through the branches. He doesn't want to be caught out on the high parts of the trail after dark, so he's almost ready to turn back, but notices a scenic overlook sign. It's not far. He trudges up the steep incline, shortly thereafter breaking through the trees to an outcropping of rock. His breath catches as he takes it in.

He hadn't realized that the gradual incline was actually quite a serviceable mountain. The rock face gives way to a drop into the valley below which is mostly taken up by a glittering lake. He can make out a few cabins and small docks along the bank, but otherwise it's pristine and still. The setting sun about to disappear behind the mountain on the far side of the valley is more beautiful than any postcard. Castiel digs his cell phone out of his pocket and snaps several pictures before putting it away, downing half his bottle of water, and then admitting it's really time to leave. 

The path is dimly lit thanks to the tree cover, and he makes his way down as quickly as he deems safe. Several minutes later, he's cursing himself silently as he turns on his cell phone's flashlight and slows his downward hike to a crawl. Rookie move being caught out after dark in an unfamiliar place. God, his feet are blistering in the shoes with no proper support for this kind of activity. He hopes he doesn't get eaten by a bear. Are there bears out here? He's not really afraid of the dark under normal circumstances, but the darker it gets, the more antsy he becomes. A snap in the trees to his left makes him swing his light over. Too quickly, as he finds out. His worn shoe slips off of his heel and sends him windmilling backwards. He doesn't catch himself in time, hits the ground, and slides down the embankment to the other side of the path. His forward momentum is only stopped when his left foot hits a rock or a root, sending a sudden, searing pain up his leg.

Oh, God. Oh, _shit_. It takes him a moment to catch his breath, but he refuses to panic. He won't panic. He's been an ER doctor. He knows how to handle emergencies. Deep breathing in and out until his heartbeat finally calms. Then he can take stock. He's injured. His backbone is bruised. Arms fine. Head fine. Right leg good. Left leg. He cries out and immediately immobilizes it. That feels broken. Fantastic. 

_Calm down, Castiel. Think._ Right, of course. Call the pros. He breathes out a sigh of relief to find his cell phone still working and with enough battery and signal to get a call out. He dials 911. The bored dispatcher takes his name and approximate location, assuring him that help is on the way. Now all he has to do is wait and hope that the possible bear doesn't find him first.

The pain jacks up higher and higher as he waits. He wishes he'd brought a backpack with some supplies. Maybe a bandage. Ice pack. Something. Fucking _hell_ he hurts. He loses track of time while focused on the pain until he hears a voice nearby.

"Park Ranger! Call out, hiker!"

Castiel twists his upper body around towards the path and shouts. "Down here! This way! Look for the flashlight!" He waves his cell phone's light in the air until the battery dies, though it's good enough. He hears footsteps coming closer and the bright beam of a flashlight casts over the trail and then sweeps down. He squints at the sudden brightness in his face. "I'm injured," he calls up. "Not bleeding, though!"

"Hang on!" The voice answers. The light disappears momentarily and Castiel can't see or hear anything until someone is sliding down almost right on top of him. A camp lantern clicks on and Castiel suddenly finds himself unable to speak as the park ranger grins reassuringly at him.

 _Oh, God. Dear God. Holy God. Help me, God_. It's the _alpha_. That smell. It's strong and overwhelming enough that the pain in his leg becomes a distant memory. His blood is boiling, heart racing. His eyes widen and he can't stop himself from drawing in a deep breath, scenting the air. The camp fire and heavy pine. Sam's brother. Too much. Way too much. The man in gorgeous. Chiseled jaw, full lips, stubble shadow, dark green eyes he wished he could see better in the dim light of the lantern. Perfect alpha. _His_ alpha. Or... the alpha his body is screaming towards for a scent bond.

Something must have shown on his face or spiked in his pheromones because the grin on the ranger's face is gone in an instant like it's been slapped off. For a crazy moment, Castiel wants to apologize for whatever he's done. 

"You okay?" the ranger asks. The words are kind, but the man's jaw is set hard, his pheromones wafting aggression.

Oh. He's one of _those_ alphas. One who has trouble being around others without posturing. What a shame. "I think I broke my left ankle, but otherwise I seem to have no serious injuries," Castiel answers carefully, lowering his gaze in a show of submission to illustrate he has no desire to challenge the other alpha. That's really not his thing.

"I got a kit," the alpha answers. He sounds perfectly calm, and as he moves to grab a plastic first aid kit, the sharp bite of his scent dissipates a bit. He's quiet as he sets to work adjusting the light so he can see better. He gingerly rolls up Castiel's jeans and unites his shoe. Castiel winces, but holds still. The tension in the ranger is back, followed by a wave of anger. Suddenly, the ranger bursts out with, "what in the hell were you doing out here by yourself after dark? And in these fucking _shoes_? Dude, you ever been hiking a day in your life?"

Castiel winces at the Ranger's prodding at his tender ankle and the return of aggression. His distress must have been setting off the challenge responses in the other alpha. "I've been camping once," he admits, trying to lighten the situation, distract himself from his own pain, and distract the other alpha from his own hormones. "It was a disaster. My family... they're wealthy. Camping was a fad for several years. All the rich people and their families did it."

The green-eyed ranger meets his eyes with surprise and Castiel smiles wryly. "For real?"

"Yes," Castiel says, almost laughing in relief when he sees the other alpha's face soften to a more neutral expression. He figures that carrying on with the self-deprecating story is the best way to keep both of their minds off of other things. "My father ordered all this equipment. Thousands of dollars worth. He paid someone to come and set it all up at the camp site."

The ranger snorts a laugh and ducks his head down, carefully removing the shoelaces and loosening up the tongue before slipping his shoe off. "Photo-op to show off and let everyone know you're keeping up with the Jones'?"

"Exactly," Castiel answers, bracing himself in anticipation of more pain. But the ranger is quite skilled. "It was awful. It rained the whole time and my mother yelled at everyone and everything. None of us knew how to use any of the equipment. We couldn't start the camp stove or light a fire. We weren't allowed to wander more than a few yards from the tent, so it was boring. I remember wanting to go fishing desperately. The lake was beautiful. Peaceful. But, naturally, it was too dangerous to get in a canoe, even though my father bought one. Ridiculous. We barely made it a day."

The other man is laughing in earnest now, opening up his first aid kit and pulling out an Ace bandage and a chemical cold pack to wrap Castiel's ankle. "Ever heard of 'glamping'?" There's a sparkle of mischief in his eyes when he glances up.

"No, but it sounds awful."

With a devastating grin, the ranger says, "it is. It's campers with all the comforts of home. WiFi, cable, running water, the works. People go out into the middle of nowhere with these campers and pretend to get closer to nature."

Castiel shifts a little, feeling his shoulders begin to relax. "I take it from your tone that you disapprove."

With a shrug the ranger says, "it depends. On the one hand, if you're gonna go out into nature, then for Hell's sake, go out into nature. But, on the other hand, I'm a park ranger. I rescue people like you all the time who don't know what they're doing, and go out here blind. Even in a place like this with regular patrols, it's not totally safe. There are rock slides, floods, wildlife. It's best not to go out unprepared, or else I end up with more work to do."

"I'm sorry," Castiel says again, sincerely.

"I'd rather find you this way, than another dead body, believe me. Okay, I'm done. Can you stand?" He stands, brushes his knees off, and offers his hand out.

It's an enticing prospect, finally being offered the chance to casually touch this man. But there's also a level of danger to it, that Castiel isn't sure that he wants to delve into. Still. It would be rude after all he's already done. Castiel reaches up and slides his palm against the ranger's. The spark is amazing. Arousing. It doesn't raise his hackles at all. Completely the opposite, actually. It's been a long time since something has felt quite as good as that man's hand in his own. Since he very first met Amelia. He drags himself to his feet, biting back a noise of pain.

"Dean Winchester, by the way," the man says, tugging at Castiel's arm until it's over his shoulder, taking most of his weight.

 _Dean_. "Nice to meet you, Dean," he grits between clenched teeth, struggling to hobble through the shooting pain going up his entire leg. It's definitely a fracture. But the pain goes away a little as he presses against the park ranger. Dean's name sounds as good in his head and out of his mouth as leaning against him feels. "I'm Castiel Novak."

"Weird name," Dean grunts, guiding them down the embankment and towards the road.

"Angelic," Castiel corrects, slightly affronted. "It's not common, but I enjoy it. It's unique."

"That's a word for it," Dean answers distractedly, focused on their feet so that neither of them fall down again. "Seriously, man, where's your gear? Do I need to go back for it after getting you to the car?"

"I... don't have any." He feels Dean stiffen and gets a distinct his pheromones shifting towards more hostility again. Castiel physically has to prevent himself from pulling away. "I know," he says, allowing a dose of annoyance to leak into his tone. "I hadn't intended on spending the night out there. It was stupid, but I was just hiking. I should have checked on the time of sunset before I set out. It won't happen again."

Dean stops walking and Castiel stumbles a bit. He chances to glance to the side and there's a muscle twitching in the side of his... magnificent jaw. His eyes are trained forward and hard. "Not trying to ride you, Cas. I'm really not. It's just... I see a lot of harmless mistakes causing a lot more than sprained ankles out here."

Understanding entirely, Castiel offers, "if it makes you feel any better, I'm certain it's a fracture. I'm a doctor; I'd know."

Dean barks a short laugh and continues them on their way. It's not even ten minutes before they're at the Jeep. By then, Castiel can feel the throbbing pain in his temples. He's grateful to be eased into the passenger seat and sighs long and loudly as Dean makes his way to the other side. "So, where am I taking you? I don't mind getting you out to the hospital, but it's a good hour drive from here."

"There's no need," Castiel answers, gingerly stretching his legs out as comfortably as possible into the foot well. "I can fix myself up at the clinic."

The look Dean gives him is doubtful, but he turns on the engine and begins steering the jeep back down the narrow trail. "You sure?"

"I am. I've taken enough of your time."

"It's my job."

Shaking his head, Castiel smiles and says, "thank you." He'd rather smell Dean Winchester forever, but he hates himself for raising the man's hackles. He can scent the stale bond on him. It's exactly like his, and that hurts his heart. And Dean clearly wants to get rid of him as quickly as possible. It's fine, he tells himself. He can't be friends with everyone. Hormone clashes are common. Castiel may think Dean smells better than life itself, but that doesn't mean the feeling is mutual. Pity, though. He settles in and waits for the ride to be over.

They pull up in front of the clinic, which is closed for the night now. Dean hops out of the jeep before Castiel even has his seat belt undone and opens the passenger door to help him out. Castiel's pride wants to protest the special handling, but his alpha brain craves just another small excuse to touch and smell the alpha before saying goodnight. 

Dean waits until Castiel has unlocked the clinic door and shut off the alarm. He turns back and holds out his hand to shake. "Thank you for your help."

There's a minute hesitation before Dean takes his hand and shakes it firmly, letting go quickly, and wiping his hand on his uniform pants. Castiel tries not to feel insulted. "Uh. I still gotta get your statement for the incident report. But. Well. We can do that tomorrow."

"I'll be here at ten," Castiel answers, even more insulted that Dean seems to dislike him enough that he's actually fidgeting to get out of here.

"Great. I'll. Okay, I'll stop by. See ya." He turns on his heel and takes two steps before glancing over his shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Cas."

And then he's gone, Castiel staring after the jeep and wondering at the way his heart skips a beat at the casual nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting my new job tomorrow, so my updates will slow down. However, I will try my absolute best to publish at least a chapter a week. Starting after Labor Day, of course. I have a con to attend over that long weekend.


	4. Chapter 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to be civil while getting Castiel's statement about the accident.

For another hour after returning to the ranger station, Dean sits with his forehead on the desk in various states of wanting to kick his own ass. He's never reacted to anyone like Castiel before and doesn't know what to do about it. It's never even been like this with another alpha. In fact, he sort of prides himself on being able to get along with most people. And Castiel hadn't actually _done_ anything to make him angry. Aside from not wanting - or even being ready for - dating, mates, sex, anything, Castiel had been perfectly pleasant. So why had Dean been unable to be anything other than an asshole? _Awesome people skills, Winchester,_ he thinks, banging his head on the desk.

"You've been like that for a while there, compadre," Garth's voice says from his left. "Everything okay? Something bad happen on that call?"

"Nah," Dean mutters. "Guy was injured when he fell down an embankment, but he got medical attention, so he should be fine."

"That's good. You got the report? I'll get it all filed away for ya while you sit there and knock yourself into a migraine."

Dean picks his head up with a pinched look. "I didn't finish it yet. The guy... he was pretty banged up, so I thought I'd give him time to get well. I'll get it done tomorrow morning."

Garth gives him that look that irritates the shit out of Dean because it's like he's reading his mind. "Mighty kind of you. Sure he appreciated it."

"Yeah, he did, I guess," Dean says moodily. "Gotta be a good public servant, right? Earn the love and trust of the community."

Garth laughs warmly. "Never thought you'd be on board for that. Good for you, Dean. You're growing up."

"Shut up, Garth. There something you need?"

"Nope. Just wanted to schedule the morning patrol. You wanna go before getting that incident report, or should I go?"

"Do you ever sleep?"

Constant grin firmly in place, Garth says, "I get plenty of naps. You?"

"I get my four hours."

Garth scoops up the completed reports on Dean's desk to file for him. Dean doesn't slack on many things, but definitely has the habit of making small mountains out of folders. As he wrestles open the bent file cabinet that screeches in protest, he says, "I'll do the patrol and then head home and you can take care of the incident report. Just make sure you file it down at the station since there were injuries."

"I remember," Dean answers. "Sam's on, so I'll meet him." Garth thinks that's a fine plan and heads out on his patrol. Dean texts his brother about his availability. Sam says he's good to go since he's on desk duty, so Dean takes the keys to his assigned jeep, locks the office behind himself, and heads to town. The clinic has only been open for a little over an hour, so Dean's sure he won't be interrupting the busy time.

However, inside, Meg is at reception looking bored with her feet kicked up on the desk, flipping through a magazine. "Doc's not here today, and the nurse practitioner isn't in until noon," she says without looking up.

"Where is Dr. Novak? Home?" Dean asks.

Meg glances up and smiles at him in that unsettling way that makes it look like she's baring her teeth more than anything. "That's privileged information," she deadpans.

"I already know his address. I need to get his statement from yesterday."

Meg rolls her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Total idiot. Came in with a broken ankle this morning saying he'd be fine. I sent him home after making sure he was fixed up properly. That sort of work ethic isn't normal."

That sort of work ethic is pretty attractive as far as Dean's concerned, though he does agree with calling it a day on a broken ankle, especially when the job requires standing for most of his shift. He can sympathize. "I'll swing by his place. Thanks, Meg." He tips his hat and turns back to the door as her noncommittal noise follows him out.

Novak lives in the old doctor's house a few streets over from the clinic, and as Dean pulls up to the house, he admires the new paint job and lawn care that had obviously been done to the place before the new doctor had moved in. The comfortable colonial house is painted a sunny yellow with mossy green trim. Dean parks on the street and turns off the car, belatedly realizing that he probably should have called before stopping by. Oh, well. His manners aren't his biggest charm, anyway. He's still got a lot going for him. He takes the wooden porch steps two at a time and rings the bell. There's no noise from inside, but the door opens a minute later and Dean can't help the catch in his throat at the sight of dressed-down Dr. Novak.

The scent hits him first, and it's stronger than last time. Cool winter breezes and Christmas trees more concentrated because the man obviously hasn't showered yet. He's in dusky blue checkered pajamas, dark hair sticking up in the back. There's a plastic brace boot on his foot that makes him lean to his good side. He's holding a cup of coffee that further intensifies his natural scent with hints of cinnamon. Instead of greeting Dean, he stares at him surprised with clear blue eyes made brighter by the morning sun.

Dean's jaw tightens as he feels his unwitting response to Castiel's pheromones. Heart rate increased, mouth flooding with saliva, fingers itching to reach out and pull the other alpha close. It's overwhelming. Pleasant in so many ways, but he doesn't want this. It's not time. Not nearly enough time.

Instead, he clears his throat and takes a breath, chanting internally, _be nice, be nice, be nice_. "You look like hell."

Castiel winces and Dean does, too. "Sorry," he answers, voice more gravelly than normal. "I didn't expect so many other bumps and bruises from the fall besides my foot."

_Dammit, Dean_. "I mean... I'm glad you're okay." He desperately wishes he sounded it, because he does, in fact, mean it. "You up to giving your statement? Don't wanna rush you or anything, but with injuries, the sheriff likes having the incident report on her desk within twenty-four hours." He hopes he sounds apologetic. He _wants_ to, but his godforsaken alpha hindbrain is making being a decent human being quite the challenge.

"I... yes, of course, Ranger Winchester. Please come in."

He steps aside and Dean mutters, "sounds weird. Just call me Dean," as he attempts to stop himself from leaping inside the house and scenting the entire place like a damn heathen. But, holy hell, walking into Castiel's house is something else. There's an immediate sense of bone-deep comfort. Despite the fact that there are clear signs of the house only having been moved into recently, Dean can sense the nest it's going to be, and largely is. He follows Castiel into the large living room, and from there he can see the dining room and the hall leading towards the kitchen. There are packing boxes everywhere. Some haven't even been opened yet.

"Would you like some coffee?"

Dean swings around, slightly irritated that Castiel is keeping a respectful distance from him. _It's for the best_ , he reminds himself sternly. Though he doesn't want it to be. "If you're buying," he quips. Castiel smiles and Dean feels that tingling behind his sternum again.

"Gladly. Cream or sugar?"

"Bit of both."

Castiel nods and gestures to the sofa. "Make yourself at home. I'll be right back." Dean watches him walk away like nothing at all is affecting him. He's half-glad, half-pissed that he seems to be the only one starting on his back foot every time they meet.

Too jittery to sit down immediately, Dean removes his hat and casually wanders towards the brick fireplace on the far wall of the living room. It's a real wood burning one, he's pleased to note. He kind of hopes Castiel doesn't switch it out for a gas fireplace. They're easier to maintain, but something about the skill and care it takes to use a real fireplace is right up Dean's alley. He's got one in his own home that he refuses to switch out despite the costs of getting it cleaned every fall.

On the hearth is a packing box that's been opened. Without disturbing it, Dean leans over and peeks inside. It's filled with picture frames and other fragile items wrapped in brown paper. The urge to snoop is strong, but Dean resists, turning his attention to the mantel where there's already a picture resting in a large, engraved silver frame.

Before he can stop himself, Dean calls, "hey, do you, like... have a twin brother?"

"No?" Castiel's confused voice floats from the kitchen. "Why?"

Instead of answering, Dean picks up the framed photograph and studies it closer and then the engraving on it again. _James & Amelia, June 7, 2006_.

Castiel appears in the doorway holding two coffee mugs with a confused expression that clears the second Dean turns the photo around for him to see. "Ah, yes, that's me."

"You said your name was Castiel?" Dude was lying about his name? To a Ranger? What was the point? What the hell? He'd saved the guy's life and everything. Did something about Dean suggest he wasn't trustworthy? Hell, no. He's been perfectly professional every time. He pushes the insult back, reminding himself that under normal circumstances, he'd let the person explain themselves before deciding he was offended.

Castiel reenters the room and pauses. Dean mentally curses himself, figuring his change in hormones is putting the other alpha off. However, Castiel approaches a minute later and passes the coffee over with one hand and offers his now-empty hand out for the picture. Carefully, he replaces it back on the mantel, scooting it around until it's perfect again. "My full name is Castiel James Novak. I started going by my middle name when it was misprinted on the wedding invitations." A fond smile touches his lips. "Amelia almost killed the wedding planner about that, but I thought it was funny, so I went with it. She started calling me 'Jimmy' and it just turned into a big joke between us. Every wedding has a glitch, you know?"

Dean can't help an answering smile. "Yeah, they do, don't they?" Accepting the excuse, he sips the coffee and wanders back to the couch and sits down.

"What was yours?" Castiel asks suddenly after a pause, perching on an armchair next to the couch.

Dean tilts his head to meet the man's eyes. "My what?"

"Your wedding glitch. You spoke like you had one."

There's a squeeze of heat in Dean's chest as well as another flash of irritation since somehow the invasive question doesn't hurt as much coming from Castiel as it should. He tries his best to temper it, but his voice is still gruff when he answers, "nothing. Mine was freaking perfect."

"That's good."

Once again that guarded tone he'd had yesterday that Dean's already learning how to hate. He really doesn't mean to put the doctor on guard. Wants to assure him it's not his fault. But his emotions are in some sort of slingshot that he can't control no matter how hard he tried. He fucking hates knowing that Castiel is getting the wrong impression. Dean Winchester doesn't put people on guard. He helps them. Gets them to trust him. But the situation keeps getting out of his control. He's got to get himself under control. Focusing on his reason for being here should help. "So... it shouldn't take long to get your statement about what happened. You ready?"

"Yes," Castiel says, still slightly wary, but apparently unoffended. Dean can smell the other alpha's unease, but he admires his poker face. Outwardly he appears completely unruffled. Comes in handy being a doctor, probably.

Dean pulls the small notebook out of his uniform shirt pocket and his pen. "It's easiest if you just run me through the event and I'll ask for clarification if I need it. Start when you arrived at the park."

Castiel recounts his ill-fated hiking trip from the beginning, and Dean takes diligent, sometimes distracted notes. He finds that the doctor is actually an entertaining story teller. He recounts everything, even his decision to take the hike in the first place because of his brother's teasing. Over the course of the story, Dean listens intently and finds himself gradually relaxing. The coffee is awesome, even though he usually hates the flavored stuff. Castiel's voice is almost hypnotic in its gentle low timbre. He laughs at himself and his stupid decisions, and Dean even finds himself reassuring the doctor that it's not the dumbest injury ever reported to him.

"And that's about it," Castiel finally finishes. "You dropped me off at the clinic. I bandaged myself up, braced my ankle, and this morning had Meg assist me in fixing it up correctly. Then she sent me home, and here we are."

Flipping a page, Dean asks, "can you describe your injuries and how they were treated in more detail? The sheriff might want to follow up later about that to make sure it's all taken care of legally."

Castiel raises an eyebrow. "There could be an issue?"

Dean shrugs. "They don't like it when people try to sue the Parks department for pain and suffering or whatever." A whiff of offended alpha hits his nose and Dean backpedals while at the same time making a mental note that Dr. Novak appears to be the type to hold his own honorable nature in high regard. "I mean, you don't seem like the type, but we've had tourists every now and then who sue over everything. Because they got poison ivy, because ants got in their food, because it rained when it wasn't supposed to. Stupid shit. Stuff. Sorry. I just gotta dot all the i's, y'know?" Jesus, he'd stumbled so hard on his words that he nearly choked on his own tongue.

But the explanation seems to placate Castiel. He leans back into the armchair and says, "I have x-rays of my ankle, the bruises and mild lacerations noted in my medical file and treated. And I freely admit it was purely an accident of my own inexperience. If I need to submit my records with the report, I'd be more than happy to release them. I don't plan to sue. You're a park ranger, but I'm fairly certain that doesn't grant you the authority to decide when the sun sets so that all the idiots like me on the trails too late don't fall down."

Dean chuckles and catches a whiff of something smokier in Castiel's clean scent. So, he's _not_ as unaffected as Dean, is he? That's good. Dangerous. Good. He snaps his notebook closed. "Well, I've got what I need for now. I'll type it up and have you sign it later."

"Can I email you the medical report?"

"Yeah, sure. Whenever you get around to it." He pulls out his business card from his shirt pocket and offers it out, careful not to actually touch Castiel's skin when he does so. He's so out of control with the man that he's not sure he'll be able to handle it. But knowing that his pheromones are probably so all over the place that Castiel has to be confused as hell, he adds, "you don't really have to send them if you don't want to. I'll document them in the report and you can just sign off on them. That's enough unless Sheriff Mills says otherwise."

"Thank you, Dean."

He wishes Castiel would stop saying his name like that. "No worries. And, uh, if you remember anything else, my email and cell are on the card. Just lemme know."

Now with nothing else to focus on, the jittery feeling returns. He sets the empty mug down on the coffee table and stands, gripping his hat in sweating hands. Castiel stands with him, obviously fighting the pain in his ankle, but he insists on walking Dean to the door despite the ranger's protest that he could easily see himself out. He says a hasty goodbye and breathes a huge sigh of relief once the door shuts behind him. Several lungfuls of crisp air clear the cobwebs out of his brain, though as he climbs back into the jeep, he keeps the windows rolled down so that he doesn't have to smell the lingering scent of a fantastic possible scentmate on him.

Back at the station, he sets himself to typing up the report as quickly as he can. Of course, it's slow going because his handwriting is shit and he's distracted shorthand is merely scribbles in some places. Thankfully, his memory is really good with these sorts of things and he thinks he gets the most important parts down properly.

A loud rumble from his stomach stops him right after he prints the report and clips it into a file folder. He glances at the clock. 1:30 pm already. Damn, he missed lunch.

As if on cue, Sam bangs through the station doors saying, "what the hell, Dean? We were supposed to meet for lunch."

"Thought you were taking half a day off," Dean answers, though Sam's right. "How's the hand?"

"I'll live. It really doesn't hurt all that bad right now. I can get away with only Advil for most of the day. How come you skipped lunch? I thought I was gonna get a call that you were dead in a ditch somewhere."

Dean snorts. "Sorry. I had to finish this accident report. In fact, since you're here, can you take it back to Dr. Novak and get his signature? Then you can file it at the station."

"I'm off the clock," Sam points out.

"Come on, man," Dean whines. 

With an impressive bitch face, Sam smacks a plastic bag on the desk. "Burger and fries from the bar. What happened to the good doctor?"

His concern wafts off of his so obviously that Dean doesn't even think before he feels the hairs on his arm stand on end. Goddamn that stupid scenting. He forcefully tells himself to calm down and says evenly, "took a spill when he was out for a hike after dark last night. He's fine, but broke his ankle. I got his statement this morning. Can you help me out or not?"

Sam makes a huge production of picking up the file with a long-suffering noise. "Fine. Eat your damn food and don't say I never did anything for you."

"Save my life every day, Sammy," Dean answers as his brother walks towards the entrance.

"Shut up," Sam calls back over his shoulder, and then he's gone.

xxXXxx

Castiel closes the door after Dean and nearly sobs with relief now that the other alpha is gone. It had taken everything he'd had to keep himself from saying or doing something completely stupid a few times during the last hour. Of course, the fact that he now understands Dean Winchester less than ever. Part of him is fairly certain that Dean isn't one of those alphas whose knee-jerk response to other alphas is instant aggression. Dean obviously has some reservations about Castiel himself, but it still doesn't make sense. They are strangers, sure, but Dean deals with strangers almost every day in the parks. It can't be that he just doesn't like people. He never would have accepted his job if he hated interacting with people.

So, that means he has a problem with Castiel himself. He combs through his memory of their brief acquaintance and can't for the life of him, figure out what he's done to constantly set the man off. 

Then again, Castiel is a doctor and much more able to parse out what's happening with pheromone shifts since he's been trained to be sensitive to such things in order to treat patients and council their families more effectively. He knows that Dean is attracted to him. He'd smelled the spike the second he'd answered the door, before Dean had had time to react. He'd smelled exactly like the deep forests he takes care of. Then he'd had a moment to take it all in, and at least register the ghost of Castiel's attraction. He'd seen the man tense. Seen him pull back and his pheromones turn more towards sour forest fire than fresh leaves. 

On some level, Castiel is fine with it. He can't get along with everyone, and he knows that his hormones are just telling him that he'd been a good, strong possible mate with Dean. And that's unacceptable so soon after Amelia. He can't leave her yet. Perhaps not ever. 

But he also smells grief on Dean. Fresh like his own. And as sad as he is for the other man, he laments not having someone that he could potentially have as an empathetic ear to his own suffering. They might have been friends to each other. Though, they might still. He's not immature enough to think that not getting along now means not getting along _ever_ , but he certainly doesn't like always seeming to say the wrong thing to Dean all the time.

It's clear that asking personal questions will set him off in half a heartbeat, but Castiel couldn't help himself from trying. He loves his family deeply; loves to talk about them. He wonders how close Dean is to his other family members besides his brother. 

He wonders a lot of things about Dean Winchester in a range of innocent to completely inappropriate. The only comfort he has about those things is that he probably would have delved into more lurid thoughts whether or not they'd experienced scent compatibility. Dean's the most attractive man he's seen in years. That being the case, he's sure that he can be forgiven for it. He laughs a little to himself thinking about how handsome both of the Winchester brothers are. 

He shuffles back into the living room and collapses onto the couch with a groan. He'd done his best to hide the pain of his injury from Dean, but now it throbs terribly. He doesn't want to take serious pain medication so early in the morning, otherwise he'll just sleep all day. He sucks in a deep, meditative breath, finding that it soothes him. Another and the sharpness of the ache subsides to a dull throb rather than needle sharp pain. It dawns on him slowly that the pleasant calming feeling is from Dean's lingering pheromones. Letting himself smile and indulge in it, he sucks in another breath. Holds it for several seconds. 

Before Amelia and he had married, he'd broken his wrist. They hadn't blood bonded at the time, but the scent bond had been quite strong. Strong enough that she'd had a analgesic effect on him the entire time she'd sat next to him in the ER. His grandmother had been correct in some ways about having a mate. Amelia had been wonderful in so many ways to him. In sickness and in health. They'd had everything. Kept each other balanced. Whole. He'd never thought he'd even have a single breath of that ever again. Thought he'd be fine. The mourning process takes time and effort. He knows. He's seen it over and over in his line of work. But the fact that Dean Winchester has walked into his life the very second he felt as if he was drowning in his sorrow, means something. It's significant.

He lays his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. "It's been a while," he murmurs to the ceiling. "I hope You don't blame me for taking some time off. For blaming You. Hating You. I'm sorry. I turned away thinking I needed time to myself without hoping that I would need anyone. I wanted to be strong enough on my own. It's stupid; I don't know why I thought that. But instead of turning away from me and punishing me, You blessed me time and again in the time of my greatest need."

With a hard swallow, he pauses. Swipes at the wetness on his cheeks. Clears his throat and continues more softly. "You allowed Gabriel to find an excuse to stay with me in my most vulnerable time of need. You found me a haven in this home that caught my eye without a second's hesitation. And... maybe You brought me Dean Winchester. I don't want to fall in love wit him or mate him. Not now. Perhaps not ever, but You know my mind. You know that I'm not here for that. And I don't think he likes me, anyway. But, his scent is in this house, and it helps me like Amelia's did. If that's all I get, it's fine. I want to thank You for the moment of calm. For this place that feels close to paradise. I'm not happy, but I see it in the future. Thank you. Amen."

He opens his eyes and the moment of calm extends; washes over him. A weight feels like it's been lifted off of his chest. He'd missed praying. Missed his conversations with God. It's baby steps, and that's something. It's enough.

After another few minutes of contemplation, he sits up and gathers the used coffee mugs from the table, absently brushing his thumb over the lip of Dean's. Strange man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the lack of editing! I didn't have much time to do it, and only made a really quick pass of it.


	5. Chapter 05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam meets Gabriel. Dean and Castiel crash into each other.

Sam slides into his car and suddenly finds himself to be a bit nervous. He still hasn't figured out his reaction to Castiel, and isn't exactly keen to find out for the time being since his brother appears to have his own issues with attraction to the doctor. New faces must just stick together in small, sleepy towns. The thought makes him grin. Stupid. But it also makes him curious, so he does a Google search on alpha/alpha male bonds.

Most of the general information on the first few pages is no surprise. Everyone learns all about secondary gender characteristics in health class. Alphas scent bonding with other same sex alphas isn't exactly the norm. Sure, it's not as taboo as it was fifty years ago during the last population dip, but science and reason won out there eventually. Study after study has shown that the small number of non-breeding alpha and omega bondmates don't do anything at all to proper population growth since they're generally uncommon.

He's more interested in why those sorts of bonds form in the first place. The popular belief persists that bonding two same sex alphas or omegas is usually a second or later bond; the result of either one or both of the mates having lost their first bond, or not bonding until after peak breeding age. Most medical studies haven't proven anything concrete, though most show anecdotal evidence that confirms the prevalent belief system. And that says nothing about same sex alpha/omega couples or beta couples. Though, those kinds of bonds are common in all genders, and always have been. Even more so during population booms where betas are born in much larger numbers.

All the pages he skims over only serve to make Sam wonder more and more about his attraction to Castiel. It makes sense that Dean might be attracted to the doctor. He lost his first bondmate. But Sam? He's never even been close to a run of the mill scent bond before. Primary gender means nothing to him, so he supposes it isn't completely out of the realm of possibility for him to be interested in another alpha, but there doesn't seem to be much information on it for first bonds. 

Regardless, he realizes he's wasted a lot of time hanging around in his car like a weirdo by now. He turns it on and makes his way over to Castiel's with the paperwork, still a little nervous, but also intrigued. And professional. He reminds himself of that fact several times before ringing the doorbell. Immediately he hears the thud of footsteps from inside.

The door swings open and an irritated voice says, "this better be good, 'cause I just convinced Cassie to take an actual nap for once in his damn - oh. _Hello_ , there." The man beams at him with the most effortlessly flirtatious air Sam's ever experienced. It's like he's about to be eaten alive. And he doesn't really care.

"Uh."

Wow.

In one second flat Sam realizes why he was so confused by Dr. Novak. When he'd scented the other alpha in the hospital, there'd only been the vague impression of apples and caramel that Sam had latched onto. The reason why is now currently standing right in front of him. It had been a whole different person. The man in front of him now is country fairs and hay rides. Also very, _very_ omega.

"Yo ho, Officer Tall, Broody, and Statuesque," the omega sing-songs. "You here to cuff me or making a social call? The suspense is killing me."

It's a monumental effort to get his tongue unglued from the roof of his mouth, and he feels himself flush. He holds the file folder in front of his chest like a shield. "This is Dr. Novak's incident report. I need to have him review and sign it." The words come out in a single breath of panic. 

The omega crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the door frame, giving Sam an obvious once over. "Like I said, he's asleep, so you can leave them with me unless you want to wait?"

"Uh." Yes, he wants to wait. Doesn't want to wait. Actually _really_ wants to wait. Pained, Sam says, "can't you please wake him up for a second?" The omega grins and Sam can tell that he _knows_. He knows what torture he's bringing down, and furthermore, he's _enjoying_ it. That's so hot. And confusing. He now understands why Dean's been acting so weird around a scent compatibility. The pheromones are hitting Sam so hard that he can't even stick a landing on one thought. They're all just vaulting away at the speed of light.

"I can do that," the omega says, straightening up and moving out of the doorway.

It takes Sam a full thirty seconds to register what the man means. "Thank you," he answers in his best professional tone. That comes out needy instead.

"Well, come on in from the cold, then," he drawls. He shuts the door after Sam cautiously crosses the threshold, but before he can move away to a respectful distance, the omega is standing so close that they're almost touching. The man's chin tilts up and Sam can feel every cell in his body honing in. He sees the omega's nostrils flare as he scents the alpha, his eyes dilate, and for a torturous second, he licks his lips.

Sam's brain shorts out to nothing but dial tone. It's incredible. Scent compatibility was definitely everything it was cracked up to be.

The omega's voice is pitched to a lower register when he murmurs, "name's Gabriel, by the way." His breath smells like cinnamon coffee. 

"Sam," Sam croaks.

A new voice breaks in, heavy with sleep. "I will hose you down, Gabriel. Stop molesting Officer Winchester."

Gabriel's feral grin widens as his eyes flash with recognition. He does, however, take a single step back. " _Winchester_ , is it? Related to a one Dean Winchester?"

"Yes," Sam confirms weakly while his alpha brain and practical brain duke it out for dominance. His body protests Gabriel pulling away, but he's still here on official business. He thinks. Maybe. It's sort of hard to remember. "He's my brother."

Gabriel opens his mouth, but Castiel jumps over whatever he is going to say with practiced ease. "Can I help you, Officer Winchester? I apologize for my brother."

Conflicted about having an out, Sam turns towards Castiel and holds out the file with both hands. "No harm done," he says breezily with a lot more bravado than he feels, finally a bit back in the game. "Dean asked me to bring over the incident report for you to review and sign, if you would." There's a flicker of disappointment on Castiel's face that's impossible to miss before the other alpha turns away towards the kitchen.

Castiel gestures for Sam to sit at the table and pours them both a cup of coffee. Then he sits next to Gabriel and opens the report, ignoring his brother leering at their guest. He's somewhat shocked at how well Dean remembered the whole story. Sure, he'd taken notes, but large swaths of it are nearly verbatim, from what he can recall of their conversation. And it's all totally accurate. In less than ten minutes, he's satisfied with it, signing and dating where indicating next to Dean's signature. Which looks so nice. His handwriting is... Castiel cuts the wandering thought off and closes the folder. Slides it back across the table to Sam.

"Thank you for taking the time to bring this here. Is there anything else I need to do?"

Sam stands and looks slightly pink as he very obviously avoids Gabriel's eyes. "No, this is good to go. You can request a copy of it for your own records, if you want."

Castiel moves to stand, but this time Gabriel cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, little brother. No reason for you to stress those delicate broken feet of yours. I'll show the officer out."

The pointed stare he receives does nothing to quell his enjoyment as he follows Sam out to the porch, closing the door behind him.

For his part, Sam stops at the top step, shoulders rigid, trying to calm himself down. He can't just ignore the attraction completely, nor can he dive in with abandon like Gabriel seems to prefer with his lackadaisical attitude. "I'm not good at flirting," he blurts, facing away from the enticing omega. "I think it's a waste of time."

The hand on his arm makes him shiver with pleasure as the candy apple scent invades his nose again. "I do like flirting," Gabriel says lowly. "I like it a _lot_. I like dragging it out. I like the anticipation. I like to tease. I also like you. Go out with me."

"Okay," Sam answers almost before Gabriel has finished his sentence.

The omega's smile is wide as he offers out his business card. "That's my personal contact info. Use it wisely. Or unwisely. Either works for me."

Somehow, Sam finds the courage to look at Gabriel directly. "I'm not the type to play around, okay?"

Gabriel tucks his card into Sam's shirt pocket, briefly stroking his finger on the vee of skin revealed just under his collarbone. He grins when Sam visibly trembles. "If I get out of hand, you can just use those shiny cuffs and read me my rights."

With that, Gabriel slips back inside, leaving Sam alone to contemplate _that_ for a minute. Fuck.

xxXXxx

Castiel had thought that his brother would have returned to normal not long after Sam Winchester left, but by dinner time, it's turning out to not be the case. Which is strange on a number of levels. Castiel has always known that his brother is one of the most monstrous flirts that he's ever met. Gabriel isn't the type to settle down. He travels constantly, enjoys relationships of the "benefits only" category, flirts with anyone even remotely to his taste, and never apologizes for any of it. Castiel is largely fine with his ways, laughing off the fact that Gabriel defends himself by saying he regularly goes to confession and causes no harm to anyone. It suits him, though he's the complete opposite of Castiel, who always wanted to settle down like his parents and grandparents. Times hadn't always been idealistic, but they'd always managed to be good. The nomadic lifestyle isn't Castiel's cup of tea, but he often envies Gabriel's ability to run amok at will.

It makes him wonder, though. What would happen if Gabriel and Sam end up doing something about their scent compatibility? He doesn't know much about the Winchester brothers, but they appear to be fairly settled in jobs that don't lend themselves to leaving on a whim. How would they handle that? Gabriel has never indicated that he wants to put down roots anywhere, but Castiel has noticed him sometimes during the holidays at the family estate with a wistful look on his face. 

Then again, Castiel honestly only cares that his family is happy. However that happens.

In the living room, Gabriel is unpacking boxes of books and arranging them on the shelving they'd assembled earlier. "What was that all about?"

Gabriel doesn't even bother to play coy. "You seemed disinterested in the offering, so I partook."

"Gabriel," Castiel admonishes, "Sam Winchester is a decent human being."

"With a hot brother you'd like to impress." He winks over his shoulder.

Castiel can't stop a derisive snort. "Dean is handsome. And impossible to get along with."

Gabriel turns dramatically on his heel, exaggerating the movement and leveling his brother with his finest, most practiced, "you're full of shit" look. "Somehow I don't think that'll be an issue forever. Not with how you're wafting right now. You want him."

"Don't be vulgar." Though, outright denial of the accusation would also be an outright lie. Both of which he's not ready to deal with. "I have enough to deal with already."

"Speaking of which," Gabriel veers, turning back to his task, "what's the word on Claire?"

Castiel lowers himself onto the sofa, propping his foot up on a throw pillow on the coffee table. "I wanted to bring her here next week, if we can finish baby proofing. I don't know if I can do it in time, though."

"We can get it finished," Gabriel says. "The nursery is done, safety locks installed, gates up. Those are the most important things. We just need to get all the boxes unpacked or moved."

"True. I suppose I'm not too hobbled to get the most important parts done." 

Gabriel stops shelving, sniffs, and abandons the box to sit next to his brother. "What's with the face? You scared, or something?"

Castiel spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. "Shouldn't I be? I've never been a single parent. What if I-"

"Don't fucking go there." Gabriel's stern tone shocks Castiel into silence, mid-worry. "Whatever it is you're thinking, you're totally wrong. You don't have Amelia anymore, but she's not what made you an awesome dad. You know exactly what Claire needs and how to give it to her. You love her more than life, and in the end, that's all that matters. She'll be fine and won't grow up thinking she was anything other than loved completely. Do _not_ doubt your ability to provide for her everything she needs. You're the best damn dad in the world, Cassie."

Castiel dips his head, overwhelmed. He swallows past the lump in his throat and says, "thank you, Gabriel. I know it'll be fine. It's... hard. Without Amelia. When we had Claire, I couldn't imagine doing any of it without Amelia, and now it's going to be the reality for the rest of my life. I'm trying to accept that. It's not about Claire. It's about me."

Gabriel pats him hard on the shoulder. "Good thing you've got me around, then."

Good thing, indeed.

xxXXxx

Dean is yawning through some budget forecast reports when Sam finally makes it back to the station with the signed paperwork in hand. He arches an eyebrow as Sam gives him the folder silently, then wanders to the coffeemaker to pour himself a cup. He's distracted enough that he doesn't even add his usual sweetener to it. He sits down in the fold out chair in front of Dean's desk. Staring off into space. Dean gives him a good minute to come back to Earth. It doesn't happen.

"Ground Control to Major Tom," Dean says.

"Huh?"

He chuckles. "Dude. What the hell is up with you today?"

Sam rubs his hands through his hair and practically deflates in the chair. "I met someone? I think?"

Carefully, Dean closes his folders. Sets them purposefully to the side. Folds his hands and places them on top of the desk. He leans forward. "You. Think?"

He's never seen his brother turn so red in his life. So... this is a serious thing? Like a possible mate situation? What? Since when? It takes a minute or two for his mouth to get in the same zip code as his brain, but he finally says those questions out loud. And Sam just shrugs. They're not getting anywhere fast.

"Can we start with a simple one, then? Who is it?"

Sam clenches his hands together and leans forward, shoulders tensed. "Gabriel Novak."

It's said with such significant weight, that Dean thinks he should know the guy. But, "who?"

"Dr. Novak's brother!" Sam comes alive with anxious energy, jiggling his leg and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. 

"I didn't know he had a brother," Dean answers, still under the assumption that he's missed a lot of important information here.

"I didn't, either!" Sam shouts. His own outburst seems to startle him. He scoots his chair forward until his knees are against the desk and he bends towards Dean, like he's sharing some illicit secret, never mind that there's no one else at the station to overhear them for the time being. "It's like, I thought that it was Dr. Novak who I was attracted to. But I was too drugged up at the clinic to notice that the scent I was responding to wasn't his. Then today I go to drop the report off and have him sign it, and _bam_! His brother opens the door and it was... it was like... Dean, it was..." He scrubs his hands through his hair again.

"Yeah," Dean says softly. "It was like coming home." In the same moment that he's happy for his brother, a fierce stab of grief at Benny's loss knifes through him.

Sam's eyes soften and he sits back more calmly, clearly having smelled the shift in Dean's pheromones immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to bring up any bad memories."

"Nah," Dean waves him off, also leaning back casually, if only to cover his obvious discomfort. "That's the problem. They're not bad memories at all. They're the greatest. I remember how awesome it was. I'm happy for ya, Sammy. I really fucking am. You gonna go for it?" He nearly sneezes at the abrupt turnabout of his brother's summery scent to roiling ocean waves.

Sam's face pinches. "I have no idea. He didn't seem affected like me. He asked me out, but it was more like he was challenging me."

Well, damn. Few things sucked worse right off than "musk at first sight" being smacked down because the other person didn't respond in kind. "What happened?"

Sam shrugs again with his whole upper body. "It just didn't seem as genuine for him as it was for me. He flirted with me, I guess. But then it seemed easy for him to walk away afterwards."

Dean doesn't really know what to say about that. "Hey," he tries. "that doesn't mean anything. It might just be who he is." It nearly chokes him to say the name, but he persists and continues, "Benny brushed me off totally at first. But I kept going back, and then he told me later he felt the same. He wasn't ready to settle down when we met, and dragged it out because he knew it'd go somewhere. Maybe that's where this Gabriel guy is at."

That brings the clean ocean breeze back. "You think so?"

Dean rolls his eyes. If his brother had a tail, he'd be wagging the damn thing. "Yeah. Go for it. You'll be fine." He's relieved that it ends the feelings talk effectively. Sam leaves happier, but also in need of some pain medication since his hand is finally aching again. And Dean's left in his own head again. Dangerous place to be.

He can't help thinking about Castiel after Sam mentioned Gabriel. Two brothers for two brothers. Weird. Almost funny. Especially if his attraction to Castiel is actually something. 

He's not in denial enough to deny that man's seriously hot. Fuck, but his fingers itch to yank the other alpha's hair. Expose his throat. It makes him shudder and shift in his chair. He's got to keep his distance. It's too dangerous otherwise.

xxXXxx

Avoidance becomes the easiest thing in the world to do in the next week. October has only just started, but some winter weather predictions have started to come in. It's not entirely uncommon, but the cold snap near the weekend has most of the first responders a little on edge with the threat of freezing rain that has the potential to last a few days.

On Friday, Dean has his blessed day off and decides to try and beat the crowds in the grocery store for a few items just in case he's iced in for a day or two. 

Naturally, it's a fucking disaster. People don't panic as much here as they do in areas where ice and snow are uncommon, but the hoards are still pretty daunting. Dean packs his cart mostly haphazardly, dodging harassed parents with cranky children and elderly citizens strolling down the aisles without a care in the world. 

The bread aisle is particularly dangerous, and the second Dean glances towards the shelves is the same second he's almost winded when his cart crashes, stalling his forward momentum and jamming his sternum into the cart handle. He's about to apologize, or maybe shoot his mouth off in his irritation, but both options die in his throat when he sees the startled man he's barreled into. Fuck. Castiel.

"Shit," Dean says.

"Dean," Castiel answers. "I apologize."

Fuck, _fuck_ he smells good. Better than Dean remembers. He almost physically can't stand the craving. "No problem. Watch where you're going, man." _For the love of God and all that is holy._ "It's really crowded today."

Castiel's brows dip and his nostrils flare. "I realize that. I'm hoping you don't have many problems in the park with the winter weather."

"I'm good," Dean says. He shifts on his feet, gripping the cart tighter and unable to blink while he stares at Castiel. He hates it a little. Not because he's attracted to the guy, but because he can see what his up and down reactions are doing to the man.

Castiel's lips are parted and he's taking in huffing breaths from both his mouth and nose. There's sharp arousal in his rainy scent, but also deep conflict that seems to have less to do with his status as a widower, and more to do with the fact that Dean can't get his goddamn brain and body to communicate properly.

The more Dean keeps this shit up, the more he's gonna drive the poor doctor into an existential crisis. "Good seeing you," he grumbles. "Stay off the roads as much as you can. No one else to patch you up."

He forgets to get any bread to go with his deli slices as he careens down the aisle to the checkout lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, practically no editing, but I wanted to get y'all a chapter before the con tomorrow since I probably won't be able to write more before I'm back home on Tuesday!


	6. Chapter 06

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween happens! Claire appears!

"Happy Halloween!" Sam chirps from the ranger station entrance, Ianto wagging his tail enthusiastically beside him. 

"Fuck you, too," Dean answers moodily from his desk.

Garth rushes to the German Shepherd to give him one of the treats he always has stashed in his desk. "Not a big fan, either," he says, which is a pretty big shocker. He hasn't admitted openly to disliking anything even just a little since they've known him. 

"Seriously?" Sam asks incredulously. 

Garth smiles. "I'm tired of picking up the pot smokers in the woods who get lost every year. Wish they'd find something else to do." He kneels down and scratches the dog's ears, sing-songing, "we hate deviants, don't we?"

Ianto rolls onto his back rapturously for a belly rub.

"They TP houses," Sam laughs. "Even last night. I caught about a dozen high school kids on a rampage. Didn't realize people actually did that."

"Small town," Garth points out. "I guess it could be worse. You on shift, Sam?"

"I'm doing a patrol until right after dark and then I'm just on call. I'll probably just hand out candy."

"Save some," Dean demands. 

"Buy your own, you cheapskate."

"Come on, it's the only redeeming quality about this holiday."

"How can you be so jaded? You've never had a job that gives you a sucky Halloween ever."

"Making up for lost time," Dean retorts. 

Garth stands and brushes the knees of his pants off. "He's just cranky because he's on foot patrol near the festival in the town park."

"So fucking crowded," Dean grumbles in ascent. 

Sam sits across from Dean's desk and Ianto rolls over and trots to beg attention from the park ranger until his pitiful brown eyes inspire Dean to give him some ham from his sandwich. Sam tilts his head slightly. "You've been extra moody lately. You smell off and it's more than just Halloween. You sure you're okay?"

Dean huffs, leans back in his chair, and kicks his feet up onto the desk. "I'm fine," he insists. "Just restless. Bored, I guess. Might go to the city on my next day off for a change of pace."

Sam shrugs, accepting that. Their schedules haven't been matching up lately to do many of the two person improvements on their houses, and he knows Dean doesn't always do well with idle time. In fact, he could put money on his guess that his brother probably spends a lot of his downtime at home watching Netflix in his pajamas. He hasn't made many friends in the area and only ever goes out to the hardware store or the local bar and grill. Sam hasn't pushed him on his solitude; he understands his brother's need for privacy while he's healing, but lately he hasn't even been trying to hide his foul mood, and it's gotten a bit grating. 

"You wanna come over after the festival?" he asks. "We can hand out candy together. Fire up the grill. I think Gabriel might stop by."

Dean rolls his shoulders until his joints pop. "No thanks, Sammy. I'll probably call it an early night. I'm tired."

So, more Netflix in his pajamas. Sam doesn't push the issue, though. Dean's face is calm, but his scent is definitely teetering towards irritation. "They added Hocus Pocus," he says lightly. 

The first of a lopsided grin touches Dean's lips. "Don't make fun, it's an awesome movie."

Both Garth and Sam laugh, and Sam is comforted that his brother's humour isn't totally absent. It means he hasn't fallen into a total depressive black hole. Which means Sam can continue to wait out Dean's bad mood without too much worry for now. 

Which is good, because he's got a lot on his mind. Not that he doesn't want to help his brother in any way possible. He'll always be there for Dean. Always. It's just... Gabriel Novak. They've been on two dates over the past two weeks. Short because their schedules can't accommodate much more for the moment, but instead of being more confident with the omega, Sam feels like he doesn't even know which way is up anymore. The man's a force of nature. It's a good thing. Really. A challenge. Definitely new. And he's not trying to be sexist, but some part of his brain can't figure out how to approach such an aggressive omega. He doesn't buy into the old-fashioned, "omegas belong in the home and kitchen" rhetoric that pervaded popular thought fifty years ago. Nor does he believe in any stereotypes said about any secondary genders. It's just... he _is_ an alpha. He doesn't want Gabriel to submit to him by any stretch of the imagination. However, he also doesn't want to feel like he's not on equal ground with someone that he could honestly fall for.

He puffs out an audible sigh.

Dean latches on to it. "Rough night?" he asks knowingly. 

Normally, Sam enjoys torturing his brother. He's too tired today. "Not really," he says, resigned. "Just trying to figure it all out with Gabe."

Dean nods thoughtfully. "He doesn't seem like your normal type."

Sam bristles slightly, though Dean isn't wrong. He's too close to right. Sam hates that. "Maybe not, but there's still something there. We have a good time."

"Gross," Dean says and Garth laughs.

"Real mature." Sam rolls his eyes. "We haven't even done anything good yet."

" _Real mature_ ," Dean teases back. "What are you, in middle school? Have you held hands yet, or is that third date material?"

Sam stands, face flushing, and snaps for Ianto to come to him. "I knew you'd be no help whatsoever. Thanks for nothing, jerk."

"Any time, bitch," Dean chortles as the younger Winchester makes his way out of the ranger station, shoulders hunched.

Outside, Sam receives a shock when he finds Gabriel Novak leaning against the police cruiser, casual as you please. Ianto breaks off his leash easily since Sam's only holding it loosely in his surprise, and the dog jumps up onto Gabriel so enthusiastically that he would have been knocked over if not for the car behind him. The omega laughs and spoils the dog with an affectionate petting rather than a reprimand for bad manners. Sam watches the pair of them for a minute until Ianto calms down and plants all paws on the ground, pressed to Gabriel's legs as hard as possible, tail wagging so fast that it's almost a blur. 

"Thought you were out of town until tonight," Sam says walking slowly down the stairs. He tries to fight down the thrill of seeing the man as well as his smile, but he can't. His lips pull up and Gabriel's grin widens even more.

"It's Halloween. It's a holiday. I came back."

"It's not a real holiday," Sam protests, stopping two feet away to sweep his gaze over the omega. If he had a tail it would be wagging as hard as Ianto's. It's so great to see him.

"I thought you knew me better than that," Gabriel answers with a wink.

"I do," Sam answers, opening the button to the front pocket of his uniform shirt and pulls out a raspberry Tootsie Pop. He holds it out. "Trick or treat."

Gabriel reaches out for it, then detours, grabs Sam's wrist, and yanks him forward. Sam has a split second to cry out before he's pitching forward and nearly trampling his dog. He manages to hop/stumble and straddle Ianto right before Gabriel's lips are on his in the most amazing, yet awkward kiss of his life.

Suddenly tagging into the game with a vengeance, Sam wastes no time leaning forward as far as he can without losing his balance to deepen the kiss. Damn, but the omega tastes as good as he smells. It's an explosion of candy apples deepened with desire that turns his scent muskier, like apple cider. It's barely a minute later before Sam's dizzy with it.

It's over far too quickly. Gabriel pulls back with a smirk, though Sam notices his expression isn't anywhere near as self-assured and cocky as it has been. His lips are wet and his hazel eyes are glassy and wide with desire that probably shocked him with its intensity, too. "Like that treat, better," he murmurs. "And that's saying something."

Having the upper hand for once, Sam peels off the candy wrapper and slips the lollipop into his mouth with a casual shrug. He enjoys the way that Gabriel's eyes sharpen and track the movement hungrily. Sam pretends to ignore it as he moves back a few steps to free Ianto and then rolls the lollipop around his mouth before taking it back out, much more slowly and, hopefully, more sexy than necessary. "Dunno," he muses. "This is pretty damn good, too."

Gabriel looks about ready to pounce him, but Sam's already moved to the other side of the car, and opens the back door for Ianto. He whistles and the dog comes running. He opens the driver's door and then leans on the hood of the cruiser. "Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

"Anywhere," Gabriel says breathlessly.

Sam laughs and gestures to the car, sliding in. Gabriel is beside him a moment later. Sam's nose twitches with the breeze of Gabriel's pheromones that his brain translates as desire, but mixed brighter with something like happiness. He smirks privately, giving himself a mental pat on the back. Now that he knows he can do what Gabriel does right back to him, it's a hell of a lot more fun. He can work with this give and take easily. Readily. He's thankful he chose to move here with Dean. It's the happiest he can remember being. And he's not about to take it for granted.

xxXXxx

Garth stands and stretches hard, arms up over his head. "'Bout that time," he says.

Dean grudgingly gets to his feet, slips on his coat and hat. "Sheriff Mills down at the festival already?"

"She texted a few minutes ago and said so," Garth confirms. "You might as well get there early and take a look around. It's really nice."

Dean's not going to argue that. He heard the local butcher shop with the attached deli had set up a stall with turkey legs. He can seriously get behind that. He turns on his radio. "Check in every hour?"

"Will do," Garth confirms. 

With that, it's time to endure Halloween.

Luckily, the public park is close by and not crowded. Dean parks his jeep in the reserved space for officials and staff of the festival, right next to the Sheriff's cruiser. He steps out into the crisp, late afternoon. It'll be freezing when the sun finally goes down. They've already had a few days of snow before Halloween, which Dean still marvels at as he zips up his coat securely. He nods to the ticket staff standing in makeshift booths under the Halcyon Fall Festival banner printed in bright red and gold letters as he makes his way onto the grounds.

Grudgingly, Dean admits that it's pretty neat. Takes him back to his childhood and the pumpkin farm Dad took him and Sam to every year. They'd always begged to get one of the huge pumpkins to carve that had been big enough to sit inside once hollowed out. Dad had always said if it didn't fit in the trunk of the Impala, it didn't go home with them, but one year he'd borrowed a trailer from Bobby and they'd gotten a pumpkin so large that, at the age of twelve, Dean had been able to curl into a ball and lay down completely inside it.

Halcyon's fair is similar in nostalgia. There are food stalls with everything from roasted corn to mulled wine, old school carnival games (Dean makes a mental note to try the shooting booth), handcrafted goods and trinkets, a ferris wheel, small petting zoo, and the far end backs up against a rather impressive corn maze. That's where he finds Sheriff Jody Mills, speaking to the designers of the maze on an old farm which abuts the public green space.

Jody holds out her hand. "Good to know ya, Winchester."

"How you been holding up, Sheriff?"

She smiles and shrugs. "Not too bad. You're looking more grumpy than normal."

"I don't like crowds," Dean deflects. He really can't justify his grumpiness.

"Good, then you'll be happy on your shift, won't you? Get to it. Lots of crowds to keep in line."

Despite himself, Dean smiles. "I'll do my best." He saunters off with exaggerated swagger and Jody wolf whistles at him. That does lighten his mood. Jody is good people. It keeps him in a bit of better mood as he patrols. But it rapidly becomes boring because everyone is so well-behaved. People nod at him and greet him pleasantly. It's a new thing for him and he's partly uncomfortable and partly happy. He walks taller.

About two hours in, after a turkey leg, funnel cake, roasted corn, cotton candy, and a locally brewed root beer, he's starting to yawn. There's nothing else to do. He makes his way towards the east of park up the sloping hill. It had rained in the morning, so the grass is wet and starting to freeze slightly in the dropping temperatures. He almost slips a little, but makes it to the top and then down to the sidewalk where trick-or-treaters are starting to congregate on their way to the nearby neighborhood.

He loves watching the kids in costume betting on how much candy they're going to get. He finds himself smiling without effort as they pass by in groups, excited.

A minute later, he catches the flash of incongruously quick movement coming right towards him. A child no more than two years old is running full tilt. As she closes in, Dean sees it's a girl and she's dressed like a doctor, down to a tiny lab coat and stethoscope. She crashes into him, barely up to his knees, and instinctively, Dean scoops the kid up before she takes a spill and props her on his hip. "Where's the fire, kiddo?"

The doctor turns her wide blue eyes up to him, blonde curls sticking out in every direction, and a long, trailing toddler leash hanging down from the monkey backpack she's wearing. "No!" she shouts.

Dean grins. "It's a metaphor, kid. What's your name?"

"Nope," she answers, grabbing at his uniform hat and yanking it off. It makes Dean laugh heartily. Something about her is so sweet. It tugs at him and he scents her. She's spring flowers and sunshine. She's a happy kid. Perfect. Dean's smile spreads to a true grin.

"Where's your mommy and daddy?"

She sticks her thumb in her mouth and squirms until she's settled, flapping the hat. Dean spots a name tag on her jacket and he tilts it to see it better in the dim light. It reads... of fuck... _C. Novak, MD_.

" _Dada_!" the girl shrieks.

Dean follows her gaze and his heart skips a beat. Despite the small crowds wandering around, it's clear who the kid is indicating. It's the only adult who is hobbling frantically in their direction, searching the crowds. "Dada?" Dean says softly.

"Uh-huh!" Claire points again. Of course. _Of-fucking-course_. Castiel. And even more irresistible in costume. Dean can't. He really doesn't think that he can. The man is dressed head to toe in sky blue scrubs. With bees. Fat cartoon ones. With tiny fat black wings and smiling faces. Made to look as though they're flying with little dotted lines behind them. A few are resting on flowers. Some are framed by happy yellow suns. Jesus Christ, there are clouds, too. Dean can't handle a single thing about it. It's adorable that he's dressed up matching with his daughter, which means Castiel is adorable, which means Dean is attracted, which means he's in _so much trouble_ here.

"Great," he mutters under his breath. Then he yells, "Cas, over here!" He adds waving with Claire to draw his attention. Castiel catches sight of them and lets out a cry of relief, picking up the pace with his cane so fast that Dean rushes to meet him halfway because it looks like he's in real danger of slipping on the wet pavement.

"Dean! Claire! Thank God!" Claire launches herself out of Dean's arms and into Castiel's. He catches her expertly, cane clattering to the sidewalk. He hugs her tightly, face buried against her head. "Oh, thank God," he murmurs. Then he pulls back enough to meet his daughter's eyes. "That was dangerous, Claire! You can't run off!"

Claire stares at him guilelessly. Her mouth turns down seeing and probably smelling Castiel's distress and finally says, "yes."

God, she's so cute. Dean says, "I caught her. Everything's fine."

Castiel rakes a hand through his hair, messing it up and Dean's palms itch to set it right. "I know. I... thank you, Dean. I'm not used to..." his face closes off and his scent shifts sour. His eyes flick down to the pavement. Dean thinks he won't continue, but after a moment he does softly. "Amelia always took her trick-or-treating. I was always on shift in the ER. Halloween was a busy time."

"Ah," Dean says lamely. He's afraid to say anything. He'll stick his goddamn foot in his mouth again. He doesn't want to do that. Cas is a nice fucking guy. It's not his fault that Dean's not ready to be attracted to him. 

However, Castiel doesn't seem to know how to fill the awkward silence, either. He says, "well. Anyway. Thank you. For... this. Claire is... thanks." He takes a step backwards and immediately remembers his foot is broken when he stumbles.

Dean catches his arm unconsciously and puts his other hand out to brace for Claire if she falls. The kid has no idea what's going on and immediately leaps into his arms. Castiel makes a dissenting noise, but Dean shakes his head. "It's cool, man. She's fine. Can I like... uh... help you get her somewhere?"

Castiel's eyes widen. "No!" he breathes. Then he flushes deeply, but doesn't give Dean the chance to feel completely disappointed. "No, I mean, my house is just..." he waves a hand weakly towards the far side of the street.

Right. Yeah. His house is totally right there. "Then, it's no imposition. Grab your cane, old man." He flinches, but Castiel doesn't get angry.

He smiles. "Sure. Thank you, Dean."

In his embarrassment, Dean's already turned around and swung Claire up onto his shoulders. He starts walking away, bouncing slightly to make Claire squeal with laughter. "Burning daylight, Cas!" he calls.

"CAS!" Claire yells.

He knows Castiel is following him even if he can't see him. Something swells in his chest, and for once, he lets it happen. It's a holiday, after all. 

Once they get to Castiel's house, Dean swings Claire down from his arms, dipping her and hefting her back up and the girl is breathless with laughter while Castiel unlocks the front door. He opens it, but blocks it from Dean entering. It's not particularly insulting. Dean probably shouldn't go in there. It's still too dangerous. "You're good with her," Castiel says.

"'Course I am," Dean says, finally planting Claire on her feet and giving her a gentle nudge towards her father. "Chicks dig me."

"Clearly." Castiel snorts. Claire is clinging to Dean's leg. 

The ranger untangles her fingers and bends down to her eye level. "Time to go with your daddy now, kiddo."

"No," Claire says definitively. 

Dean chuckles. "You gotta, though. There's stuff you need to do. Brush your teeth, go potty, draw some pictures, eat some candy, jump on daddy's bed. Sky's the limit! But you gotta go inside and get warm now, okay?"

Claire begins to waver, flicking her gaze between her father and Dean. She holds out her hand and wiggles her fingers plaintively. Dean's heart clenches. Fuck, this girl is amazing. He really, really feels the pull. Instead, he gives her a light fist bump. "Sorry, Claire-bear. I can't come in. I need to get back to work."

Castiel puts his hand on Claire's head and steers her towards the door. Reluctantly, she shuffles inside. Castiel turns around. "Thank you, Dean," he says softly. "That was very kind."

"It's nothing." He needs to go. He can feel his lips pulling down into a scowl. Time to go. "Take care, okay?"

"Sure," Castiel answers. It sounds strange.

Dean doesn't like the way it sounds. Go. Now. "'Night," he says gruffly, and turns quickly on his heel and retreats back to the fair. Close one. Thankfully he managed to not be a total ass. That's a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! The next will be longer. But I had to stop it here or else it would be way too long.


	7. Chapter 07

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel's relationship status: It's Complicated.

Castiel is resentful at how slow his coffee maker is and blearily watching Claire slam her breakfast cereal puffs on the table at 5:30 in the morning, when Gabriel waltzes in looking fresh as a daisy.

"Are you a vampire?" Castiel grumbles. "Do you ever sleep?"

"I do," Gabriel answers brightly, knowing how much it will annoy his brother. He drops a box of doughnuts onto the table in front of his brother. "I just had a good Halloween, is all. Hard to sleep after that."

"Yes," Castiel says, propping his chin onto his hand and nearly dozing again. "I suppose you did after the text you sent. Though, I really don't see why you felt the need to inform me that you were 'getting lucky.'" He makes exhausted air quotes with his free hand.

"Don't be a killjoy. It's rude."

Castiel tries to chuckle and scoots some of the cereal puffs that are trying to make a bid for freedom back towards Claire, then reaches for a doughnut.

"Gay!" Claire shouts at Gabriel.

He grins and sweeps over to her, kissing her noisily on her head. "Not my name, but accurate. Good morning, little devil. You keep your daddy up all night?"

"Yeah!"

He laughs and ruffles her curls, then moves to the counter to pour himself and his brother a cup of coffee. "At least you're off work for a few days to get Claire settled."

Castiel hmm's distractedly. "I'm lucky to have such a wonderful nurse practitioner and RNs as well to pick up the slack. I've never had such good help before." He thanks Gabriel as his brother sits down at the table across from him and slides him a mug.

Gabriel's eyes soften. "Seems like you're doing good, Cassie. And Claire here is working her magic. You look stable. Though unpacking more would be awesome. How do you find anything in this mess?"

"It's not that bad," Castiel smiles. "But I plan to work around Claire's naps and things. It'll get done. There's no rush since I'll probably be here forever."

For some reason, his words make a blinding smile break out over Gabriel's face. "If that's the case, I'll stop riding you about it." He holds out his mug and taps it in cheers to Castiel's. "And for the record, I'm happy for you thinking about actual permanence somewhere."

"Near Sam Winchester, you mean," Castiel smirks.

"Psh," Gabriel scoffs. "I don't need you. I have my B&B. I can have Sam whenever I want."

Castiel laughs. "Of course you can. Silly me." He flicks a stray cereal puff at Gabriel. "I wish you nothing but happiness, brother."

Gabriel kicks back without a care in the world. "You, too, Cassie. Whenever it happens."

xxXXxx

November is spectacular in many ways for Castiel. First of all, the weather is beautiful. Colder than he's used to, but crystal clear. At least it's predicted to stay that way for the time being. The days are much shorter now, but he can sometimes enjoy the sunset from his back porch with the outdoor heater on after Claire goes to bed. It's peaceful. Quiet. He sips hot tea or decaf coffee, reads until the light is too dim even with the porch lights on, then spends the rest of his time before bed by the fire. There's time for quiet contemplation in small towns, even as the only doctor. He's itching to find a good church to attend, though it's not an immediate pull since his prayers to God and conversations with Amelia lately bring him more peace than he'd even hoped for. He hadn't been guided wrong. He'd been concerned with his ability to go on since his mate's death, but now... he has Claire, Gabriel, Pamela, Meg - in her own way - Cesar and Jesse, who are the best neighbors in the world. None of it is _completely_ perfect, especially when he has a stray thought for Dean Winchester that sets him on edge, but no happiness is absolute. He belongs in Halcyon. He is becoming a part of the community. People notice him here and would notice his absence. Several would even mourn him. That's more than enough to keep him moving along to settling into the next stage of his life. Wherever it leads him.

Though he says that, a puzzling trend arises throughout the month. He's not certain if it's always been the case, or if he's more aware after Halloween, but Dean Winchester is _everywhere_. It's not his imagination that man is talking to him more often, and also being nicer. It's the frequency of the encounters which puts him on guard.

It begins November 5th. Castiel is about to unlock the clinic for the morning, when he glances across the street and sees the Winchester brothers having a heated discussion. Curiously, they keep casting furtive glances towards him. Castiel pauses to watch.

Eventually, Sam holds his hands up, right hand balled into a fist resting against his left palm. Dean mirrors him. Castiel fights back a quick grin at the childish game. Dean's scissors lose to Sam's rock, and with a groan that carries across the street, Dean turns, gestures for Castiel to stay put, looks both ways across the street, and trots over.

"Hey, Cas," he says, all disarming smiles and careless charm.

"Hello, Dean." He's almost forgotten how wonderful the park ranger smells. The sharp cloves are thicker than he remembers. Sweeter like sugar thrown into the mix. It's tempting enough that it stirs in Castiel's gut. He unconsciously leans forward just a hair to be closer to it.

"So, I got a weird question for ya." He removes his hat and turns it casually in his hands.

"Okay?" He honestly has no idea what's going on. But he's awfully glad that Dean is speaking to him willingly, allowing Castiel to get a glimmer of what he's like with everyone else. He's rapidly starting to see why people are so drawn to Dean.

"Okay. So. Sammy and I were watching Dr. Sexy last night, right?"

A snort of laughter sneaks out before Castiel can stop it. He slaps a hand over his mouth, hoping he hasn't offended him when Dean scowls, though instead of being truly irritated, Dean's pheromones warm towards mulling spices. "Right," Castiel says, voice strained.

Dean looks like he's about to ask the most important question in the world. "How much blood can an adult alpha male lose before dying?"

Castiel's mouth drops open. The question is so random that it stutters in his brain. "What?"

"On the episode last night! Dude gets shot and loses like, five pints of blood, okay? That's what the paramedic says. And the guy lives! That won't happen, will it? I told Sammy it was impossible, but he's all like, 'nah, man, he could survive that!' But he's wrong, isn't he? I mean, sure, Dr. Sexy's the best there is, but even _he_ can't save someone who's practically been bled dry! Back me up here, Cas."

Castiel listens to Dean's impassioned explanation. Watches his emphatic, flailing gestures. Stares at his pleading green eyes. It's simply too much. " _Pfft_!"

Dean's eyes narrow. "Dude. Don't you fucking dare. It's an honest question."

He dares. Castiel doubles over and laughs so hard tears spring to his eyes. While trying to pull himself together he can hear Dean starting to chuckle, but fighting it. It's a nice sound. There's no tension here at all for the first time since they've known each other. He could get used to this. He kind of wants to. When he straightens back up, Dean is watching him with a huge grin. "I'm sorry," Castiel says roughly, coughing to clear the mirth.

"If you're gonna laugh at me, at least tell me I'm right."

"You are," Castiel agrees, sniffling and wiping the corner of his eyes. "It depends on the person, of course, though more than thirty percent is usually fatal. Three pints is generally enough to put the average person into shock, though with immediate attention, they could survive. Five pints is fatal."

Dean crows with triumph and swings around to flip his brother off. "Take _that_ , bitch!" he yells.

"Jerk!" Sam calls back. He waves to Castiel and then walks towards the police station.

"Sorry for keeping ya," Dean says cheerfully, patting Castiel on the shoulder. "Guess I'll see you around." He salutes lazily, drops his hat on his head, and jogs off across the street again to his jeep.

Castiel rubs the spot on his shoulder that Dean had touched as he watches the ranger peel out of the parking space. He keeps watching until he's out of sight. It takes him two tries to fit the key into the clinic door's lock.

xxXXxx

November 7th is also strange. Castiel is just walking into the grocery store, holding Claire's hand, about to pick up a basket, when his daughter screams, " _DEEDEEDEEDEE_!" And breaks from his grip.

Castiel only gets a step after her before a familiar voice says, "pull the brake, Claire-bear," and Dean Winchester is holding Claire against his hip again. "Hey, there's daddy! I think he's upset you ran off again, even if it was to see me."

It's as amazing to see as the first time. This time Dean is in his casual clothes. Dark red flannel, unbuttoned on top of a black t-shirt. Dark jeans, work boots. He's mouth-watering with the indulgent smile he gives Claire that crinkles the corners of his eyes. Claire has a death grip on the lapel of his shirt and is shooting daggers from her eyes at Castiel, as if daring him to part her from her friend.

Castiel holds out his arms for his daughter. "Good morning, Dean. I'm sorry about Claire. I don't know what it is." Claire wiggles in Dean's arms like she's trying to climb onto the man's back and out of Castiel's sight. Dean settles her and ruffles her hair.

"It's no big deal. I'm shopping, too, so why don't we do it together? If you're cool with it."

Claire scoots until her arms are wrapped around Dean's neck, nearly strangling him. Castiel watches Dean with wonder as the man expertly loosens Claire's grip and flips her upside down. She screams and laughs and Dean tosses her back up, securing her in the cart seat with the buckle and everything. For a moment, a wave of _I'm in too deep_ crashes over Castiel. He shuffles after Dean who is blowing raspberries at Claire and she tries her best to imitate him. _God, give me strength._

"Where's the cane?" Dean asks, pulling a box of extremely unhealthy cereal down from the shelf and tossing it negligently into the cart. 

After a slight hesitation, Castiel picks up some Raisin Bran and puts it into the cart as well. "I don't have to use it anymore. I'm healing up nicely."

"Awesome."

They wander two more aisles together without talking. Castiel keeps their purchases separate and Dean entertains Claire with ridiculous faces and high fives. In his wildest dreams, Castiel had never imagined this since he met Dean. Yet here they are shopping together like best friends. Or... _don't go there._ It's so domestic that he almost can't process it. To him, the silence is starting to get oppressive. He tosses around for a subject of conversation. "Our brothers seem to be hitting it off." _Not helping_.

Dean laughs. "I know, right? They're, uh... scent bonding, I think. At least feeling it out."

Castiel grabs a few cans of green beans. "Do you disapprove?"

"Nah." He throws some tins of fruit in that Castiel pushes to his side of the cart. "Sam's pretty happy. He's never had a mate before. Gabriel's a challenge, but it's good for my little bro."

The sentiment warms Castiel. "I agree. I'll admit that I was fairly shocked when Gabriel told me about Sam. My brother is more into flings. Sam threw him for a loop."

"Then they're both the same."

They reach the end of the aisle. Dean stops. He faces Castiel and regards him with an unreadable expression. Just when it's starting to get unbearable, Dean says, "I'm sorry."

Castiel tilts his head. "For what?"

"For being an asshole to you. It's... I don't wanna be that way."

It's a perfect opening to what Castiel has been thinking about for some time now. Dean doesn't appear to be entirely at ease with the turn in conversation, but he supposes that neither of them will be on such personal matters. "I understand," he admits softly. "We're scent compatible."

"Jesus, Cas," Dean mutters, his neck flushing. The air between them sours with their discomfort enough that Claire starts squirming. Dean takes her tiny hand in his, giving her a reassuring look. He clears his throat, unable to meet Castiel's eyes. "Yeah, I know. That's why. I'm not ready for that."

"Me either," Castiel agrees.

Dean nods once, firmly. Then they're back to shopping. The rest of the trip goes much easier.

xxXXxx

November 12th brings the first real winter weather. The salt and sand trucks can't get up to them as quickly as necessary, so a rash of car accidents bring all hands on deck to the clinic and to the police and rangers. Castiel's grateful for his big city ER training. It makes him quite good at triage that could have easily overwhelmed the small staff otherwise. As it is, he can't help his heart sinking when he rushes through reception towards the other side exam rooms, and a rush of cold air blows through when the door bangs open. Another victim?

Dean, sweating and breathless, is heaving a bleeding man through the door. "Sorry 'bout this, Cas. You got another bed?"

"Two more," Castiel calls, not breaking pace. "Bring him this way."

Dean follows, practically dragging the man towards the exam rooms. "I think he's got a concussion. Hit his head on the steering wheel when his car ran off the road." He slings the man up into the bed. 

Castiel tilts the man's head up and shines a penlight in his eyes. "I concur. He'll live. Let me get a look at the rest of him." He checks the spots of blood on the man's shirt and pants and questions him about the accident. The man isn't completely coherent, but getting more focused as he answers more questions. "Doesn't look too serious. You're lucky, sir. Can you apply pressure to his shoulder wound, Dean?" He grabs some sterile gauze and throws the packets to Dean. "I need to help Meg."

Dean nods, tearing open the wrappers and doing as he's told. Castiel is eternally grateful for his assistance. It's exhausting with so many people injured. He hopes that Gabriel and Claire made it home safely. He hasn't had time to check his cell phone for messages yet.

He forgets about Dean almost immediately in the chaos. He also completely loses track of time. It's full dark out when the last person is patched up and he can finally breathe again. The adrenaline wears off leaving his body heavy, eyelids drooping. He shuffles back to his office, head bowed, yawning. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and scrolls through the missed messages. They're all from Gabriel with notes and cell phone pictures of him and Claire in the nightly routine. He's smiling as he gets to to his office. Belatedly, he smells coffee. And... cinnamon? It takes a monumental effort to lift his head in his fatigue. He didn't think it was possible, but another wave of adrenaline rushes through him. "Dean."

He holds up a paper coffee cup. "It's almost cold, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Tentatively, Castiel reaches out to take the cup. His fingers close around Dean's. _God, give me-_ his whole body shudders. Needle shocks of desire shoot over every nerve ending. Slowly, he pulls back. He doesn't want to stop touching Dean, but he _does_ want to because he _can't_ want it. Not yet. He's not ready yet. "Thank you."

"Least I could do. You all right?"

"Tired. Haven't had a day like this since I worked in the city."

Dean nods towards the rooms. "That why you quit?"

His heart squeezes. "No," he breathes. He takes a large gulp of the lukewarm coffee. It's sweetened perfectly. How? His emotions are roiling with confusion. He desperately wants to talk to someone on the outside about his situation. His family is good, but they pity him. They can't help it since none of them have experienced what he has. But Dean has. He knows it every time he focuses on the other alpha's scent he can smell their similarities. But he's exhausted. It's hard to make smart decisions when the fatigue sets in, so he says, "I couldn't stay in Kansas after my wife died. Needed to get away." He's almost sorry when he scents the panic in the air. It's harsh and makes him flinch.

"Sorry." Dean's voice sounds rubbed raw. "It ain't you."

"No, you're like me," Castiel says, voice slurred a little. He drags himself to his desk and rests against it right next to Dean. He marvels that the man doesn't move away. This close, and this drained, he can't fight off his simmering arousal. It's not strong enough to push him in any particular position, though it does make him hyper aware of how close they're sitting. It makes him ache less for some reason. "I'm making you uncomfortable."

"Y'don't mean to," Dean answers gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Didn't realize you were from my neck of the woods."

The change of subject takes a beat to sink in. "Oh," Castiel says. "I'm from Lawrence."

"Lebanon."

Castiel smiles. "Destiny."

Dean chuckles. "I don't believe in that shit. Nice thought, though. We do have a lot in common. I came here for the same reasons."

Castiel looks Dean in the face. "Not right now, but if you ever want to talk about any of it..." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. Dean understands him. It's written in every line of his face.

xxXXxx

November 15th is the first day that Castiel has to sleep for as long as he likes. He hasn't been so refreshed in ages when he rolls onto His back to check the clock. It's nearly ten. His head it completely clear, settled. For once it doesn't feel like he's trying to fight off some emotion or thought that he isn't ready to face just yet. Gabriel has taken Claire out to the city for some new winter clothes. The house is silent.

And suddenly Castiel realizes that he should avoid Dean Winchester at all cost. He handled it well when Dean was giving him emotional whiplash. He could deny the attraction with ease when Dean was rude. But he's starting to like the ranger. Claire is starting to like him. If it felt dangerous before, it feels untenable now. He can't do it. "I can't."

His heart is heavy with the decision, even if he knows it's the right one. He shoves the covers back, shivering in the cold air. He turns the thermostat up on his way to the kitchen. He starts the coffee maker and then moves to the fridge, taking out a green pepper, onion, shredded cheese, and eggs. Blearily, he chops the vegetables and whisks the eggs. Lethargically adds them to the pan and pokes the mixture around until he has a serviceable omelette. 

Why is he so depressed? He knows he's making the right decision distancing himself from Dean at this point in time. There's too much to like that he can't delve into. He's being responsible. 

However, it doesn't make his eggs any more tasty.

xxXXxx

Thanksgiving day finds Castiel hosting a small dinner for himself, Gabriel, Pamela, Meg, and Claire. There's more food than any of them can eat in a lifetime, but it's wonderful company. He'd decided that flying home to be with the family is too much until Christmas, and they all understand. It's why Gabriel agrees to stay behind, too.

It's a perfectly pleasant time, small gathering or not. Pamela gets along with everyone, and even Meg is cracking a smile or two after a few glasses of wine. She also seems to love Claire. It goes smoothly, until the pumpkin pie is served with coffee and they sit around the fireplace, Pamela and Meg entertaining Claire with a puzzle on the floor.

"I was with Sam the other day," Gabriel starts, apropos of nothing.

"How's that hot ass doing?" Meg asks casually.

"Very hot, and very nice around the ass area," Gabriel answers, curving his hands out in an hourglass shape.

Meg sighs. "Dreamy. He's so tall."

Pamela laughs. "You're so short you wouldn't even have to get on your knees for him!"

"This is family time!" Castiel bursts out. He's afraid Gabriel's protective streak for Sam might set him off, but Gabriel is chuckling quietly to himself. "Seriously?"

Gabriel shrugs. "What can I say? My boyfriend's hot and everyone's jealous."

He can't argue with that. Sam is very attractive.

Meg is the one who veers off onto a side road. "What about the other Winchester? He's some _serious_ eye candy."

Oh, no. Castiel sinks deeper into the couch cushions, holding his coffee mug up like a shield.

There's no quarter from Gabriel. "Ah, yes, he's something else, isn't he? What do _you_ think of Dean, my dear brother Castiel?"

His tone turns all eyes to Castiel who is busy trying to disappear. Even Claire yells, "DEEDEE!"

It's a trap. There's no graceful way to get out of it, and he knows it. "He's fine," he says finally. "He helped out a lot when we had that ice storm the other day."

"He brought you coffee," Pamela adds. "Has he got a thing for you?"

"No," Castiel says at the same time that Gabriel says, "yes."

"Two brothers for two brothers," Meg laughs. "So lame."

Gabriel winks. "Like I said. Jealous."

"Sorta."

Pamela leans back against the arm of the couch, spreading her legs out. Claire immediately climbs into her lap and tucks under her chin, sticking her thumb in her mouth and closing her eyes while Pamela strokes her downy curls. "No teasing on Thanksgiving," she says, modulating her voice to a calm lilt to help Claire doze. "But you have been taking extra steps to avoid him lately."

Castiel leans to the side, resting his head against the arm of the sofa. "It's nothing, really. He's nice enough, but we're not friends or anything."

Gabriel nudges his brother's knee. "You're worried about falling for him."

That causes a lot of raised eyebrows. Pamela says, "is that what it is? I've been wondering... when he was at the clinic the other day... scent compatibility?"

Castiel shrugs. She knows. There's no use denying it. "Yes." It's like a light bulb goes on for everyone in the room. He can feel the tension of a lot of things wanting to be said, but he has to cut it off. He's hanging on by a thread as it is. "It's too early," he insists. "Dean's a nice guy. We are scent compatible. It's just not time for me. I'm not ready. The last thing I need are more complications right now. I've got all I need, and I'm going to focus on healing before I try anything else."

"That's reasonable," Pamela says. She drops a light kiss on Claire's head and pulls herself up to put the toddler down in her room. "You do you, Doc. We'll support you." She gives him a reassuring look and takes Claire to her room.

Meg is a little more biting. "Especially if it means you'll get that hot piece. Gotta say you'd make an amazingly sexy couple."

Even Castiel cracks a smile at that. "I'll take it into consideration," he says drily. At least that gets them to end the probing questions about Dean Winchester. For now.

xxXXxx

It doesn't get any better for the last few days of the month. Castiel _notices_. There's a distinct lack of Dean everywhere. Of course, Dean hasn't disappeared. He's all over town, and guilt eats at Castiel every time he turns the other way in the store and pretends he doesn't see Dean. It's good that he can't see the reaction that he's getting in return for some of his more obvious dodges. He's afraid to hurt Dean just as much as he's afraid to be hurt by him if it inevitably becomes something that it shouldn't too soon. He likes Dean too much and he feels as though he'll fall for him too hard and too fast. And it would be disastrous. If he _does_ fall in love with Dean, he doesn't want disaster. He wants forever.

No. He doesn't. Not now.

It's so frustrating. Why won't his hormones listen to him?

It's in this sort of mental distraction that he's ambushed at his lunch break at the deli across the street from the clinic the first week in December.

"Cas! Hey, man. Feels like I haven't seen you in forever!"

He swings around and freezes with his pimento cheese on wheat, coke, salt and vinegar chips, and pickle. "Dean." The sound barely comes out.

Dean leans on his back leg. "You okay?"

"Yes. Of course. How... have you been?"

"Good. You?"

"Busy. Uh... really busy. Lots of... ear infections. Flu season. You know." Why won't he tongue work properly? He can feel his heart beating too fast. He's starting to sweat between his shoulder blades. He needs to get out of here. It's too small. Stifling. Oh, God. He's never had claustrophobia before. He's hoping that he's staying calm on the outside, but his pheromones are definitely giving off his fear because Dean's eyes widen and his nostrils flare.

"Cas... hey, are you-?"

"I have to go. I'm sorry. Please, just..." he waffles, moving right to get around, but Dean steps left and they do the awkward dance until Castiel has to touch Dean's arm to stop him. It makes his hand burn. Oh, God, had Dean always smelled this _good_? Has it really been that long? Has his scent always been so... musky? Alluring? If he pops a boner, he'll be very disappointed in himself. He yanks his arm back and then uses every ounce of willpower to not run at full speed as he leaves the deli into the cold air that, thankfully, shocks him back to himself. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Darn. Why? He's being tested. He knows it. He has no idea how to persevere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter makes up for the last one that was way too short! :D


	8. Chapter 08

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean reach a tipping point. Dean makes a regrettable decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still writing furiously to cheer up [ltleflrt](http://ltleflrt.tumblr.com), who killed herself reading a fanfic. This was her favorite part of the story when I talked to her about it.

Dean thinks about his last interaction with Castiel for days. He plays over the whole meeting in his mind, start to finish from the second he wakes up, trying to determine where he went wrong. He can't find the problem, though. He'd been friendly, hadn't he? Since they'd talked briefly about their situations during the ice storm, Dean had been under the impression that they'd reached a pretty good place in their friendship. But then at the deli... it had been physically painful to experience Castiel's dismissal. 

And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that there's no accounting for it at all. It's not Dean's fault this time. He's offered an olive branch; no pressure to do what their hormones are screaming for, and it's been rejected. Nicely, but still rejected. Shit. It should be a relief in some way, but it's exactly the opposite.

It feels empty. He hates that feeling just as much as the fear of falling for someone again before he's entirely prepared to do so. Then again, he knows that Benny would understand. He'd said so over and over after he was diagnosed. 

_"Don't be a wimp, Dean. If life gives you lemons, make lemonade, y'hear me? It's what I love about you the most. You go for what you want, when you want. Not many people do that."_

_"Most people call that being too impulsive."_

_"I call it being well fed in the soul."_

Fuck, but Benny had been perfect for him. Benny _is_ perfect for him. He is a person and he'd been alive and he'd changed Dean's life in a hundred different ways. That'll never go away. The imprint will always be there in the ways he's shaped Dean's outlook and approach to everything. Not that he'd been lacking before Benny. Benny had just polished everything to a beautiful shine.

Missing him is still a sharp knife, but it's also becoming bittersweet warmth. Good memories and dreams that don't always make him want to cry. Or cry in the bad way, at least. He still wishes he'd had more time, but the anger has dissipated so that he's able to start being grateful for all of it instead of pissed at the world. 

He'd have chosen Benny in a hundred lifetimes and any outcome. 

Dean rolls over in bed to stare up at the ceiling. "I'm trying to be well fed in the soul," he confesses softly. "I'm gonna try to keep living the way you showed me, babe. I know it's important to you that I get happy again. You'd haunt my ass if I held on to you in sadness forever. I'm gonna try my best. I know being happy with what we had is the best way to show I love you. I always will, no matter what. No regrets. Never had any. Especially not with you."

Putting the words out into the universe does make him feel more at peace.

Of course, trying to get Cas to pay attention to him enough for them to be actual friends is a tall command. The doctor dodges at every turn, and Dean lets him. He knows enough of the other alpha's situation to know that giving him space is the only way to go. He just hopes it won't last forever. Romance novels and fairy tales say that these sorts of permanent bonds don't happen twice, but every time that Dean sees Castiel in town doing his own thing, or taking Claire around, he really thinks that it can. So the days go on in the routine of Dean giving Castiel a wide berth. Then going to sleep. Then waking up. Then doing it all over again. He comes to terms with the simmering irritation under his skin, working out the aggression he thinks Cas is the cause of on his house. Until it's a home done just in time for the real winter to set in.

xxXXxx

December 15th is awful from the second the alarm clock goes off. Dean is the definition of waking up on the wrong side of the bed. He's seriously considering calling in sick to brood all by himself. In the dark. Maybe watch Die Hard or something.

No.

He doesn't do that. He groans and shoves away the covers, hissing in aggravation at the freezing wood floors under his bare feet. Coffee. It always helps. 

Except today it's not. He's chilled and shaking. A cold sweat breaks out on his back and forehead. Jesus, he really must be coming down with something. He puts a hand to his forehead. It's a little warm, though it could just be because his hands are blocks of ice. Shit. Does he have a thermometer? Probably not. He hasn't been sick in years. Maybe a decade. Fuck it all. 

Wait.

Hadn't Cas said a few weeks ago that flu season was widespread? Fucking great.

Lethargically, Dean shuffles back to his bedroom - screw the coffee - and pulls on a his most worn green henley, black flannel, black hoodie, coat, faded jeans, and boots. Might as well get to the doctor before there's a rush. Cas can't possibly avoid him when he has an actual _need_ , right? The thought of seeing Castiel shortly makes his blood boil and goosebumps prickle his skin. Could be the fever, though. 

At least he's cleared out the drive-under garage, so the Impala's warm in the temperature-regulated space when he collapses inside it and turns on the heat full blast. He drives like a grandma into town thanks to the fever giving him slightly blurred vision. It's not the best plan to be driving at all, but the roads are practically deserted this early. The parking lot in front of the clinic is empty save for staff cars, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief as he parks carefully.

Pamela doesn't even greet him with her typical flirting when he shoulders the door open like it takes all of his strength to muscle through. "Dean? You look like hell."

"That your professional opinion?" he mutters. He stumbles to the counter to take the clipboard and sign in. The second he's in range, Pamela plugs her nose. "What?" it even hurts to talk.

"Are you...? Sorry, we'll deal with that in a minute. Let's get you back to a room for now. We can fill out the forms there." Without waiting for him to answer, she shoves him towards the treatment rooms with actual doors on them instead of curtains, which Dean thinks is pretty weird, but doesn't care to question. That would take _way_ too much energy. He slides onto the bed and Pamela pulls up a stool right away, tablet in hand to make notes. "Tell me what's up," she says brusquely.

Dean lists his symptoms while she nods and pokes around the chart rapidly. 

When he's finished with the run down, she asks, "anything else? Moodiness? Aggression? Anger?"

"Have you meet me?" Dean quips weakly. 

"Sure have, hot stuff. When was your last rut?"

What? It's not the flu? No way. "Not since I bonded," he answers. "So, maybe six years? My partner and I synced a rut together right after we scent bonded. Blood bonded during the rut and then never had another one since we're both alphas."

"That's typical of non-breeding mate pairs. Are you on any hormonal regulators now?"

"No, I... shit. _Shit_. I didn't even consider it."

Pamela looks completely sympathetic. And perhaps a little droll. "It's probably a rut coming on. How long have you felt off?"

Now that he thinks about it... "maybe a month? I don't know. Sam says I've been moodier than normal, I guess. But it hasn't been anything like this until today."

She swipes across the screen. "Well, lucky for you, if you don't want to deal with the rut, there are some really great hormone blockers that can stop it. However, Dr. Novak will have to prescribe them to you after an exam. They're heavily regulated and he'll have to decide the proper dosage, so I can't dispense them without his approval. I'll also need to draw some blood."

"S'fine," Dean mumbles. It's not fine. He doesn't know how he's going to deal with an overdose of Castiel in a small room. But he'll try. This is the worst case scenario. His baser instincts don't have to take hold. He can control this. He has to. He can't run the doctor off more than he already has. The longer he considers it, the more intolerable the idea becomes. It could just be the rut talking, though. It hits him off balance. He tries his best to hold still while Pamela draws a few vials of blood and promises that the doctor will be in to see him soon. He hopes she's going to warn him first.

He lays back on the bed and closes his eyes. He's already starting to feel a little better so he lets it ride and dozes. It's going to take a while for the blood tests to come back, so he might as well make himself comfortable. He's so tired he can't stand it. But the aches in his joints are starting to dissipate. He'll take the small wins right about now, even if it's letting his alpha instinct be calmed by the thin scent of Castiel left in the room from wherever he'd last been in here. The laser focus scares him a little. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have been able to pick up on such faint residual hormones. His hindbrain has latched on to the doctor with single sighted tenacity. He didn't remember his rut being so miserable last time. _Because you had a scent bonded mate before_ , his mind whispers. Still, though. Even when he hadn't known Benny it hadn't been so bad. 

It dawns on him. Castiel. Deeper than scent compatibility. His hindbrain wants to mate Castiel. Desperately. Oh, no.

"Hello, Dean."

He can't stand the hesitant tone of Castiel's voice. This is the worst thing ever. "Heya, Cas," he grumbles. He throws his forearm over his eyes so he doesn't have to look at him. He doesn't know what will happen if he does. "Sorry 'bout this. I was stupid. Didn't think about what would happen after my bond broke."

"It's fine," that insanely sexy voice answers reassuringly. Dean's senses have sharpened noticeably now that his preferred potential mate is in the room. Without looking, he can tell that Castiel has come closer. He can hear the rustle of fabric. Can ascertain from his voice exactly where the other alpha is in the room. "It's a common occurrence. There's no telling when ruts will begin again after a bond dissolves. Plenty of people who have been in long-term relationships simply forget about needing hormone replacements afterwards, or wish to wait until a heat or rut to begin them again."

Is it his imagination, or does Castiel sound a little strangled? "I should have been more careful."

Castiel has sat down right next to the bed. Dean can _feel_ him there. Smell him. Holy shit, it's fantastic. Better than any previous time. It's like walking through a fresh, silent pine tree forest after a storm. He hadn't been able to tell before he'd been in a rut, but there's a hundred undertones to the pheromones that make him want to bury his face in Castiel's neck and breathe in until he can name every one. Fresh air, bark, mossy branches. It's making him dizzy.

"Your blood work confirms the rut, and your levels are quite high." 

It's not his imagination this time. Castiel's voice is getting rougher. Much sexier.

"You're at the threshold for blocker efficacy. If you wait any longer, it won't work. I can give you the maximum dose now by injection, and I've written a prescription for the rest. You'll take two pills for five days, and then one for another five days. After that, you can discontinue hormone replacement, or I can give you normal replacements that you can take until you wish to have a rut again. Either way, you'll be feeling better in twenty-four hours, and the rest of your symptoms should be mild, but manageable, for the next few days."

"Sounds great," Dean rasps. He just needs this to be over with as soon as possible. He can hear the tearing of paper - probably the prescription pad - and thankfully Castiel moves away again and there's the sound of the cabinet hinge squeaking as he opens it to retrieve the shot.

He grits his teeth against the rush of arousal because he's thinking about how professional Castiel is being about this whole situation and the man's restraint is a _huge_ turn on. He knows that the doctor wants him. It's thick in the rich, heavy pheromones assaulting him. Castiel's hindbrain is reaching for him. Demanding a response from Dean's rut. The alpha part of Dean roars in triumph, even though he knows that he shouldn't do a damn thing about it. He's going to need a cold shower when he gets home. Maybe a few hours with lube and both his hands. 

Either/or.

"I need you to sit up."

Castiel's voice is suddenly so close and low, that Dean physically startles. It sounds like a seduction. He jolts upright, arm falling from his face. He's staring at Castiel now, and he can't even blink. It's one thing to be able to scent the other man's longing, but _seeing_ it is nearly impossible to resist. 

Castiel is watching him warily, brows drawn together, but behind it... damn, but it's pure desire. His pupils are wide, lips parted, face flushed. He's feeling it, too. _He's fucking feeling it, too_. "Can you remove your jacket and push up your sleeve, please?"

Hell to the _yes_ he can do that. Anything. Whatever Cas wants, Dean's down for. His coat is off in a flash. He almost rips his shirt yanking the sleeve up.

Castiel's hands are shaking when he reaches out to swab the meat of Dean's shoulder. "This is going to hurt a bit."

Dean officially doesn't care.

Then it _does_ hurt. Like, a _lot_. The needle is thick, but Castiel makes it quick. His smile is satisfied as he secures a band-aid over the injection site and knuckles the muscle hard to distribute the medication and prevent swelling later.

It's because of that smile that Dean makes, arguably, the worst decision of his entire life up until this single point in time.

The pulse of pain from the massage is the kicker. Dean surges off the side of the bed with a growl in the back of his throat, topples into Castiel, jerks him off of the stool, and kisses him right on the mouth.

His brain is on a loop of, _best idea ever. Worst idea ever._ Over and over. The momentum has them both staggering backwards and crashing into the closed door. His hands fist into the front of Castiel's dress shirt, both pushing and pulling. He doesn't know if he's trying to close the distance or create more.

All he's completely certain of is that he could die if he doesn't get more of this. Castiel is amazing. Godly. He _smells so fucking good_. It's even better when Dean's hips thrust forward against Castiel's and the doctor moans. Dean takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past Castiel's lips and _holy God on high, I've seen Heaven and this is it_. He can _taste_ Castiel's pheromones, and they're _delicious_. He's pretty sure that if he hadn't been leaning against Castiel, who was leaning against the door, he would have fallen. 

It's pure bliss. Every cell in his body is singing with it. Nothing hurts. He's euphoric. The thought of mating Cas, biting him, almost has him popping a knot. And Cas. _Castiel_. He's moaning sinfully into Dean's mouth. Limp against him except for his hands gripping the back of dean's neck just shy of painfully. 

But the rapture has to end. And it does. Quickly. Castiel comes back to himself first. The pheromone shift is as sudden as a crack of thunder shifting to pure hostility. A warning growl begins deep in Castiel's chest. His hands release Dean's head and go to his shoulders, shoving him back forcefully.

Dean can't make himself move, even though the anger is like a bucket of cold water. "Cas," he gasps.

The doctor pulls his right arm back, and his fist connects with Dean's jaw hard. It's not enough to knock the ranger to the ground, but he does pitch to the side, catching the bed before he hits the floor. The pain shocks him completely back to reality as he tastes the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. He looks up, stars clearing from his vision. And Castiel. His tolerant, beautiful, incredible mate is _livid_.

He throws the prescription at Dean with force. His chest is heaving and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You!" he sputters. "You... _ASSBUTT_! Get out and get your head in order!" He swings around to the door and rips it open. At the last second, he turns back. "Remember what I said before, you _dick_!" He jabs his finger towards the crumpled prescription on the floor. "Take two _and don't fucking call me in the morning_!" And then he slams the door behind him.

Dean is frozen in place for several minutes. _Oh, no_.

xxXXxx

It takes three days for the unfulfilled rut to clear with the drugs, thanks to the sexual frustration he'd given into at the clinic. He moans pathetically and buries his head resolutely under his pillow. He could have gone back to work after a day. The mating imperative had passed, but he couldn't leave his house. Not after what he'd done. Instead, he'd called Garth, who had been far too understanding, then drank himself into oblivion, and then slept for another two days. But he took his meds. Castiel had told him to.

God, he is so sorry for what he's done. Mortified. He assaulted someone. Scent compatibility or not; Castiel responding or not, he should never have done something so awful. 

If Castiel never speaks to him again, he'll deserve it. It hadn't been worth the moment of joy. 

"It smells like rotten ass in here."

"Go away, Sam." He doesn't even know if Sam can understand him through the pillow.

A heavy weight falls onto the mattress and the pillow is jerked off of his head. "You need a shower. When was the last time you had a proper meal?"

"Not hungry."

"Not the point. You're going to get worse."

"Good."

"Dean." There's the bitchface he knows and loves. 

"I fucked up so bad, Sammy. I really did."

Sam sighs and rests his elbows on his knees. "I kind of heard from Gabe. Seriously, what the hell?"

Dean pulls himself up to a sitting position and leans back against the headboard. He knocks his head rhythmically against the wood frame. "I kissed Cas."

"I heard that part."

Gesturing with a limp hand at his jaw, Dean continues, "he decked me. It was an awesome hit, actually." He chuckles humorlessly. 

Sam reaches out. He takes Dean's chin in his hand, tilting it. "Holy shit, that's a bruise, all right. Sure you didn't break anything?"

He flexes his jaw muscles once Sam lets go. "Nah, it's fine. I deserved it."

Sam leans back on his hands. "You know, Cas'll probably forgive you if you're sincere in your apology."

Dean scoffs. "What makes you think I wouldn't be sincere? I've been apologizing in my head since it happened."

"Scent bonding doesn't make you psychic," Sam says. "He won't know if you don't use your words."

"Yeah, no shit. It's just... it ain't that easy."

"Fine," Sam says breezily. He whips the comforter and sheets off the bed to Dean's loud protest. "I'll make food, so get up. Shower, shit, shave, and shine. I'm serious, you reek."

Grudgingly, Dean admits that he smells pretty ripe. Living closed in his bedroom in the miasma of guilt and thwarted bonding pheromones is probably just making the whole cycle of depression worse. It almost feels humid how thick the air is. Despite it being cold as nuts outside, once Sam leaves to go bang around in the kitchen, Dean removes all of the sheets from the bed and throws the window open. The breeze is biting, but clean. His mood lifts almost immediately and he feels like an idiot for not having taken steps to prevent the depression better three days ago. He hangs the comforter over the window ledge to air out, too.

After stuffing the sheets in the washing machine along with the clothes he hasn't changed out of in days, Dean's almost back to normal as he steps under the hot shower spray. He's nearly ready to smile again until he washes his face and shoulder. Both places still hurt. The pain is an instant reminder of what he'd done. He'd forgotten to massage the muscle over the injection site, so it's still a bit swollen. His jaw is a little bit the worse for wear, too. Castiel had certainly gone for the good shot. The left side of his lower jaw is an angry shade of black and red, lip split, though the swelling's gone down. It's a pain in the face to shave, too. Dean makes it an extra close one this time around so that he can let it grow a few extra days before shaving again. His face is pre-pubescent smooth by the time he's finished.

No use getting dressed, so he slips on worn sweat pants and the old Stanford hoodie Sam had brought him after his first semester out there. It's got holes in the pockets and the cuffs are frayed, but it's still the most comfortable thing he owns. He makes his way to the kitchen where Sam is putting together sandwiches stacked high with all the fixings Dean's got on hand. He glances back at his brother when he sits down at the table.

It pains him to be the one opening the conversation, but Sam is being suspiciously quiet when he obviously knows some of what's going on. He waits until his little brother is seated across from him with his sandwich in hand before he breaks the silence. "What do you know?"

Sam shrugs. "Not much."

Dean rolls his eyes. "You're a pretty fucking terrible liar, Sammy. You might as well lay it on me so this conversation can go a lot smoother."

Sam picks at the lettuce peeking out from the bread. "Cas was pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, but Gabriel put a lot of the details together. He wanted to put you down, truth be told. And when _you_ wouldn't talk to me about it, I took the liberty of calming him down and asked him what had happened. I mean, I don't want to judge you unfairly or anything, but I'd sure like to know what really happened. I can't jump to your defense when I don't know it. And Cas is saying about as little as you are. But he's..."

Dean's head shoots up. "You've seen him?"

"Yeah," Sam says carefully. "I went over yesterday to pick Gabe up. Cas was home with Claire. I only saw him for a second, though."

Forcing himself to have a small bite of his sandwich, Dean takes him time with the production of chewing and swallowing in order to get his thoughts arranged properly. He can't do it for long. He drops the sandwich back onto his plate with a sigh. "Did he look okay?"

"Better than you, if that's what you're asking," Sam answers. "He looked bathed and he was playing with Claire."

Dean shoves the plate away. "Fuck."

Sam also pushes his plate to the side so that he can rest his arms on the table, and lean towards his brother. "Do you want my opinion?"

"Hell, no."

"Good, because I'm gonna give it to you. I think Cas was so mad because he cares about you. He didn't want things to go down that way."

"How could you possibly know that?" He knows he's being petulant slouching down in his chair and crossing his arms, but he's allowed. He screwed the pooch. He can whine about it a little.

"Because of Claire."

That jolts Dean's attention back. "What?"

Sam taps the table for emphasis and smiles encouragingly. "Claire. She likes you. And more than that, she _trusts_ you. Why do you think she runs after you whenever she sees you? She's taking her cues from her father. Cas is attracted to you."

Dean shakes his head. "I know he's attracted to me, but that don't mean shit. We're both in complicated situations, y'know? The scent compatibility is a problem, not a blessing."

"Sure, but the attraction isn't everything, is it? If you'd just thought he smelled good, you wouldn't have jumped him at the clinic, rut or not. Look, Dean, you're beating yourself up over this, and you _should_ about the bad behavior, but Castiel feels the same way that you do. Instead of writing it all off as scent compatibility and nothing else, maybe you should consider why it's been pissing you off since we first moved here. It's been months. The scent compatibility would have faded well before now if there was nothing else besides that. I'm right, aren't I?"

Dean goes back to slouching. "I don't fucking know."

Sam sighs. "Just think about it in broader strokes, okay? I don't think it's as superficial for either of you."

"Fine," he mutters.

Satisfied, Sam pulls his plate back and digs in. Begrudgingly, Dean admits to himself that Sam's words have had an impact. His appetite is starting to return, and he thinks he'll be able to return to work tomorrow. With doughnuts or something for Garth. The guy is all cheerful smiles and constant concern for Dean's well being, but Dean still feels bad for leaving him in a lurch. And Sam for not talking to him for days.

He's got a lot to apologize for, it seems. Maybe he should start small. With doughnuts. And also, "thanks, Sammy."

"What was that?" Sam says smugly.

"Shut up, bitch."

His brother laughs in return.


	9. Chapter 09

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter is NSFW!** Castiel and Dean attempt to clear the air, but fumble the play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one for [ltleflrt](http://ltleflrt.tumblr.com). I hope you're doing better after this! <3

"Cassie, you are my favorite brother, and I love you, but holy shit on a stack of pancakes, you're worse than Scrooge McDuck right now."

"I'm allowed," Castiel grumbles as he fights to untangle the second string of Christmas lights with a little more force than necessary.

"I told you I'd do it," Gabriel says, knowing full well that it's not the Christmas lights that are pissing Castiel off. Well, they _are_ , but they're least at fault for his foul mood.

"It's fine. I have a focus for my anger now. There's nothing I can do about Dean-" he cuts off when Claire, ensconced in her play yard out of harm's way and the dozen boxes of Christmas decorations, bangs her sippy cup on the pen railing, yelling, " _DeeDee_!"

Castiel turns his eyes up to the Heavens, asking for patience he probably won't get. "I mean, there's nothing that I can do about You Know Who for the moment."

"Who?" Gabriel chuckles. "Voldemort?"

"Close enough," Castiel answers wearily. He shakes the tangled mass of lights vigorously, and when it doesn't do a damn thing to help either his mood, or the knot, he tosses them down onto the ground, and steps over the mess to sit on the couch next to the piles of fake greenery. He picks at the plastic berries on a wreath absently. "I need to confront him."

Gabriel turns to face his brother with an amused expression. "I was under the impression that you already had. Sam says that D-uh... _Voldemort_ ," he stutters when Castiel waves his hand frantically to prevent anyone from saying Dean's name now that Claire appears to be hyper-aware of it. Gabriel clears his throat and continues mildly, "Sam said that you gave his brother quite the shiner. Well done, by the way. Didn't know you had it in you to ignore the Hippocratic Oath."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Hardly. He'll live. I didn't break him. Just bruised his ego more than anything."

The prim assessment has Gabriel laughing. "All the same, good for you." He goes back to hanging the untangled lights on the freshly cut Christmas tree. They're quiet for several minutes decorating, Claire babbling away happily with her crayons and snacks. It's comfortable, despite his disquiet. Castiel hadn't been sure about making a big deal of the holidays this year, but Gabriel had insisted. When Castiel had balked, Gabriel had called the family and they had all immediately bought plane tickets to Maine. Drawn into a corner. He'd had no choice but to accept his fate and Gabriel's Christmas cheer. He doesn't hate it, though. He just enjoys making Gabriel's life difficult sometimes. 

He's so lost in thought about plans with his family in a few weeks, that he's not prepared for Gabriel's serious turn. "Are you done with He Who Must Not Be Named for good now?"

"I..." Castiel pauses. Is he? It's a damn good question. He's angry for sure. He's never been treated so poorly in his life by a potential partner. Granted, he's never experienced alpha aggression aimed at him sexually before, either. Even so. There's no excuse. It's been nearly a week and Dean hasn't even bothered to call or text or... shit. Wait. The wind is knocked out of his sails with a quickness when he remembers that Dean doesn't have his cell phone number, and is probably avoiding the clinic out of sheer self-preservation, which Castiel cannot fault the man for. He hasn't told anyone the full story, but Meg has gotten enough out of him to go for blood if Dean Winchester so much as breathes in her direction until Castiel says otherwise. Maybe not even then, knowing her.

"I'd like to talk to him first," Castiel says eventually. 

Gabriel gives him an unreadable look, and amazingly doesn't comment further. He goes back to trimming the tree. Suspicious. But Castiel will take it for now. He has no idea how to respond to any questions about Dean. His head is a mess about it, so he tucks his feet under him, facing away from his brother to unravel yet another strand of lights, while ignoring the elephant in the room. Several minutes later he's frustrated again by the sheer volume of lights he seems to have acquired without any memory of buying them all. But Gabriel wants, what he calls, "Christmas cheer out the ass," so Castiel will oblige.

The mindless work lets his thoughts drift while keeping half an eye on his daughter, who is now starting to doze in her play yard. He smiles gently at her, but it turns introspective when he thinks about how she's latched on to Dean. She's probably the only one in this whole mess who doesn't care a bit about what _has_ happened in favor of what she thinks _should_ happen. It's obvious that she has picked up on the scent compatibility and approves, just as her father does. On the base level, anyway. The practical level is a whole different can of worms. For adults only.

Everyone has an opinion about him. About Dean. About him and Dean. And Castiel has ignored them all in the wake of the latest development. He doesn't want to hear what they have to say because they don't know. They can't give him any real advice, mostly because he's kept to himself that _he kissed Dean back_. For a glorious moment in time, he'd been whole. There had been no ache of loss. No painful reminders of what not being bonded felt like. No loneliness. No wishing that he didn't have to hold back anymore. He'd _given in_ , and it had been every single thing that his hindbrain had whispered it would be. Dean had been _everything_ in that moment.

He feels like he ruined it by letting his normal brain take charge then, as ashamed as he is to admit it. Some parts of him truly regret not experiencing the depths of Dean's determination to mate him during his rut. What he'd _felt_ ; what he'd _touched_. It still makes him shiver. Dean had promised a fire. And shown that he could provide it.

It's completely irrational. He's just not used to being without his mate. He's not alone, but he's frequently lonely. That can't be helped. It's all a part of the mourning process. He just hopes his practical side can keep control. He's definitely noticed a particular... _need_ in him lately. He makes a mental note to check his blood levels soon and adjust his hormone replacements. He's never been on them before now, so he'd started with the lowest possible dose, which could be the cause of his increased crankiness lately due to their lessening efficacy.

Inevitably, his musing shifts back to Dean after only a few minutes away, which has been the case so often lately. Once again, he tells himself that the anger, confusion, hurt, and, yes, tiny bit of want, will only churn up more negativity if he doesn't confront it soon. There's really only one way to do it. He _has_ to talk to Dean before anything else gets screwed up in his mind. Time won't make this better. Understanding will. They're both rational adults. And Castiel can admit to himself that he's partly to blame for the way that Dean reacted. He's a doctor. He _knew_ about the scent compatibility. He _knew_ about Dean's rut before he'd even walked into the room. Before Pamela had said a word to him about it. He'd smelled it the second he'd stepped out of his office. And he'd gone in, anyway. He hadn't been able to resist. He'd _seemed_ professional while treating Dean, but he hadn't actually _been_ professional. His alpha side had wanted that man so badly. He hadn't been able to resist seeking out even just a breath of Dean's intensity. It doesn't forgive the assault, of course. He can still be plenty angry about _that_ , but it won't leave him unless the faces the problem. And he will.

With that thought in mind, he takes to the Christmas decorating with much more holiday cheer.

xxXXxx

Finding Dean Winchester to speak with turns out to to be the singular challenge of his life. Naturally. He gets sick of trying to run into the man after two days, electing to show up at the ranger station and hope for the best on his lunch break.

It's a complete disappointment. Garth is there by himself. "Hey, Doc!" he greets. "What can I do ya for?"

"I need to speak to Ranger Winchester. Where is he?" He hopes he sounds more polite than accusatory, and he's not sure that he's succeeded.

"Dunno," Garth answers. "He's up in the trees communing with Totoro for all I know."

"I don't understand that reference," Castiel frowns.

Garth smiles. "He's requested that all his patrols for the foreseeable future be up on the trails. Man really wants to get back to nature, I guess. He doesn't have any office time until after Christmas."

That does present a problem. "Oh," Castiel says, disappointed. "Well. Thank you, Ranger Fitzgerald."

He tips his hat. "Call me Garth. Sounds too weird the other way."

With a thin smile, Castiel nods. "Thank you," he repeats, and leaves. Garth must be telling the truth. He doesn't seem the type to lie. On top of that, it doesn't smell like Dean at all in the small office. The residual pheromones have disappeared, too.

He feels a little stupid standing on the curb and wondering what the hell he's supposed to do now. Nothing, he supposes. He looks both ways down the street in vain hope that Dean's returning to the station for some reason, but then he remembers that he isn't in a romance movie, and feels even more stupid. He trudges to the deli down from the clinic, and wastes the rest of his break hardly eating an Italian sub.

Another day passes. Another. Castiel is nearing his long weekend off of work, and he hasn't seen the barest glance of Dean Winchester in town. He draws the line at stalking the man's house, but he's only growing increasingly pissed off the more positive he becomes that Dean is actively avoiding him now. Gabriel relays a message that Sam hasn't seen much of his brother, either, and won't talk at all about Castiel. It's intolerable. The indignation crawls under his skin day in and day out.

And then.

"Yahtzee," he murmurs as he's leaving work for his three day weekend. There's Dean Winchester in the flesh two doors down. It's the warmest day they've had in a month; not a cloud in the sky. Dean's sitting outside of the local cafe, sunning himself and drinking coffee. He must have just finished his shift at the station since he's still wearing his uniform sans hat. 

He looks exhausted, in fact. His eyes are closed, face turned upwards to the sky. Castiel isn't standing so far away that he doesn't notice the dark circles under the ranger's eyes as well as...

 _Dear God._ Castiel's heart flips. He must have hit Dean harder than he'd initially thought. He can see the bruise on the alpha's strong jaw, stark on his tanned skin in the bright sunlight. It's faded somewhat; now black and yellow, but there it is. For everyone to see. _My mark on him_ , Castiel's hindbrain crows. Possessive arousal zings through him for a split second, before Castiel stomps his alpha instincts down fiercely. 

Instead, he lets his resentment take over. It's a much more satisfying emotion for the moment. How _dare_ Dean avoid him for so long to stew in his confusion. How dare he kiss him like that. How dare he disappear. How dare he look so exhausted as though he's been putting extra energy into not being found. How dare he show off Castiel's mark so blatantly and not letting the man who gave it to him see it.

Without conscious thought, Castiel storms down the street, thankful that there aren't any people in his path. He's barely within polite earshot when he yells, "I'm angry at you, Dean Winchester! I'm _so angry at you_!"

Dean has the wherewithal to jump up from the chair in an instant and take a couple steps back. He holds up his hands defensively. His eyes widen when he registers who is yelling at him. His voice shakes when he says, "I know, Cas. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking _sorry_. I've been trying to figure out a way to-"

Castiel shoves his hand against Dean's chest. Not hard enough to do any damage, but enough to make the ranger stop fucking _talking_. "It's not your time to speak, it's mine. I believe I've earned that right."

Dean backs up another step. "Yeah, you have."

Dean being so agreeable is disconcerting. He'd been expecting a fight and he isn't getting one. He doesn't know how to approach it now without sounding... petulant. "I want you to fight back," he growls without thinking, stepping closer.

"The hell I will," Dean answers, hands still up, looking like a deer in headlights. "I... Cas, that's not... I can't do that." Castiel's eyes track the man's adam's apple bobbing as he swallows audibly. "We're making a scene."

Castiel shoots a look around, and sure enough, there are several people staring. He has an irrational surge of jealousy which inspires him to grab Dean's uniform coat with both hands and yank him into the shaded alley next to the cafe. He pulls them behind the buildings into the staff parking lots and dumpster spaces, leading them forcefully towards the clinic's staff entrance. Dean follows without protest, which makes Castiel angrier. He desperately needs to pull himself together, but he can't.

He swipes his badge in the door's reader so hard through the card nearly breaks. He kicks the door open and practically throws Dean into his office a few steps away. Dean allows the manhandling, and stands back at a respectful distance when Castiel finally releases him.

Neither of them say a word. Castiel stares at Dean. Dean stares at Castiel.

This is getting nowhere fast. 

He needs an outlet. "You've been avoiding me," Castiel snarls finally.

Dean hangs his head. "I have. I'm sorry. I don't even have the words to... _I'm sorry_. I was out of my damn mind the other day. I've been thinking about it this whole time and nothing seems right to say to apologize properly. I was out of line. I really regret it."

 _He regrets it_. His mate... regrets _it_. That makes his blood boil. "You regret it," he bites out with a dangerous edge to his voice.

Green eyes flick up and Dean looks so _lost_. The hurt coming off of him is intense in his scent. "Yeah, I mean... I took serious advantage."

"You don't get to say that!" Castiel bursts out. "After what you did, you don't get to put your tail between your legs and say you're _sorry_ and you _regret_ it!"

Dean moves away, but there isn't far to go. He's not scared, Castiel can tell as much. His scent isn't sharp with nerves. It's more sadness than anything else, and it's driving him crazy. Why in the hell does Dean get to be sad? "I don't know what else to say, man!" Dean answers, voice oddly thick. "I didn't want to ruin things with you because of my damn rut. We were just starting to - I dunno - become friends, or whatever. And I liked that. I like _you_."

Oh, he _does_ , does he? "You've got a hell of a way of showing it," he fumes. "Disappearing into the night like some damn sex demon when I wouldn't give you what you wanted!"

"Hey," Dean cuts in sharply. "That ain't fair, Cas. That's not what I did!"

Oh, God. Oh, _yes_. There it is. The tang of shattered branches and forest fires. Dean's finally getting _angry_. It's what he needs. "That's _exactly_ what you did!"

"You told me to!" Dean insists, scrubbing his hands through his sandy hair forcefully. "I don't get it! I left you alone like you said to! I wanted to apologize, but I figured giving you space was the best idea until I figured out the best way to approach you without setting you off! I didn't know you'd just get more pissed! My bad! If you wanna come at me, fucking fine, come at me! But don't fight dirty, 'cause I don't deserve that shit!"

"You deserve-" he can't figure out a way to finish that sentence. His mind's blank. Well, that's a dirty lie. It's overcome by his hindbrain responding to Dean's aggression. So glorious. Sexy. _Alpha_.

But underneath the hostility remains the cloying scent of regret, sadness... Castiel's hindbrain screams against it. To stop it. Dean needs to understand. Castiel needs to make him understand. And what if he does it? Just... lets the instinct take over for once? The thought flits through his head almost thin enough that he doesn't catch it, but the tiny tug of it is enough. Dean Winchester is going to learn a lesson about what happens when he takes the coward's path and runs away. Castiel's control snaps.

He reaches his hands out again. Dean flinches this time, but he's not fast enough to move out of range. Castiel has two handfuls of his coat again, and this time he pulls Dean towards him with all his strength.

He misjudges their height difference in the split second he has to process it, causing his mouth to meet the bruise on Dean's chin first. Dean gasps. Castiel growls. Then it's every man for himself.

Dean comes at him like a hurricane of need and it's exactly what Castiel had hoped it would be. No hesitation. Just blessed movement and sensation. It's so much to take in, but he's sure going to try.

And it's not that tough. Dean's anger is sublime. Castiel had never pictured what it would be like to be on the receiving end of another alpha's raw passion, but gold star so far. It's frantic, messy, button-ripping passion. And in a quick change of course, Castiel discovers that he's stronger than Dean, and it turns him on all the more. He flips Dean around and hauls him towards the desk.

It's like Dean is a mind reader. He swings his left arm out, knocking Castiel's name plate, pen holder, desk calendar, and several file folders to the floor. In a graceful hop up, he's seated on the top edge, legs spread for Castiel to come between. 

Then they're scrambling for more. Their mouths meet in a bruising kiss, biting each other's lips until they're swollen and Castiel can taste a hint of copper. It only makes him want more. Dean rips off his coat and then grabs for Castiel's. But that's as far as they make it before it's too frustrating. Dean hauls Castiel closer and his arms are like a vise. His fingers clench and unclench against Castiel's back before pushing lower to yank his shirt out of his pants. His hands are hot against Castiel's bare skin and he shivers at the sensation of blunt nails scraping against his spine.

The height difference is perfect for Castiel in this position. He's at the right angle to work his way over Dean's jaw, kissing and scraping his teeth over the stubble and to the bruise. Dean throws his head back on a deep moan and Castiel chases the vibration down his throat to the ranger's shoulder. The curve of his neck is thick with the milky scent of the other alpha excited and willing for more.

"Cas," Dean groans. His voice is broken and needy.

He can't take it. He can't be rational. Doesn't want to be. Maybe never will be again. It doesn't matter. He tears at Dean's belt and lets out an approving rumble when Dean reciprocates without missing a beat. Fabric splits in their frantic _need_ for skin on skin. He couldn't care less. He's so hard his dick is aching when it strains against his dress pants, his knot already starting to throb.

But then Dean is _there_. His warm, calloused hands are parting cotton, digging into the slit of his boxers and Castiel cries out when the ranger pumps his dick in his fist once. He bites down hard on Dean's collarbone and that sets the man off moaning a litany of curses and praise.

After a little fumbling, Castiel has Dean's dick in his hand and is stroking him for all he's worth with only his sweaty palms and pre-come to ease the way. Dean's the same and it's just shy of too much friction; a small amount of pain with the overwhelming pleasure. He won't last long.

But first, Dean. Dean has to _know_. He has to _learn_. Castiel will fucking show Ranger Dick what it's like to be so goddamn frustrated for so long. He knows it's working because his own mind is starting to white over. He's hyper-focused on just the two of them. The pheromones blending and merging to drive them both wild. The sound of Dean's panting in his ear, growing more and more noisy as his body starts to tense. The obscene wet sound of them jacking each other off. Castiel can barely get a breath in his lungs. And when he does it's just _Dean_. His mouth is open against Dean's neck, taking in short, overwhelming breaths of his rich scent as he chases his orgasm. 

It's the best he can remember in ages. His toes start to tingle first. Then his body flashes hot. Dean must sense it, because he works his hand faster, murmuring, "just like that. Cas, come on. _Shit_."

He's holding back. Can't have that. Castiel twists his wrist and surges up to seal Dean's lips against his in a searing, deep, filthy kiss. He feels like he might black out, but it'll be worth it. Dean's body is trembling uncontrollably, and right when Dean gasps and jerks his head back, Castiel nips at Dean's earlobe, and with a wrecked sexy drawl says, "come for me, Dean."

It's beautiful. Dean's body locks for a second and he comes hard, shouting and spilling into their hands all over Castiel's shirt. His knot swells and Castiel slides his hand down to wrap his fingers around it, milking the sensitive bulge until Dean's nearly sobbing with pleasure. It's enough to send Castiel right over the edge. The orgasm crashes over him almost painfully as he moans and watches himself come in thick ropes over Dean's forearm. He doesn't let Dean touch his own knot, but thrusts his hips forward so that they're pressed together, the exquisite, intimate pressure sending another demi orgasm through them both. Time shatters to pieces for a perfect moment and Castiel feels frozen in the afterglow.

But then seconds pass. A minute. Probably another. The real world slowly returns.

Castiel flinches when Dean removes his hand. There's box of tissues behind them and he reaches for it, offering it out. Castiel takes a step back, eyes downcast, before taking a handful and wiping himself up. He can see Dean doing the same in his peripheral vision, though more slowly.

 _What did I just do_? He turns away and does his best to tuck himself into some semblance of order. He notices dimly that it's his pants that have ripped. Luckily his trench coat can hide it until he gets home.

"Cas," Dean says softly, pleading. 

Castiel's voice is hollow when he says, "that's what you get."

The ranger is silent for several heartbeats, though Castiel doesn't need to look at him to feel the hurt resignation. He clears his throat. "You won't make me sorry for this too, Cas."

There's more rustling. Footsteps. The door opens and shuts. Castiel stands stock still in his dark office, eyes unfocused. He's startled when his phone buzzes with a text from Gabriel asking when he'll be home. Claire is hungry and asking for him. 

His heart squeezes. It's gone all wrong again. No, Dean shouldn't be sorry for this, too. It's Castiel's turn.

He throws the soiled tissues into the trash and pulls on his trench coat numbly. The biting wind does nothing to clear his head as he shuffles to his car wondering how in the hell he's supposed to fix this now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family descends in the days before Christmas.

Dean wallows in his mistake from the moment he leaves Castiel. He walks to the Impala and slides into the diver's seat completely on autopilot. He adjusts the rear view mirror and catches sight of himself. _Holy shit_. He looks like he just had sex. Like, there's absolutely no mistaking it. 

Reality floods back in a rush. He realizes that he _reeks_ of it. He slaps his hand over his mouth to try and block out the combined odor of two sated alphas, but that's a bad decision. Wrong hand. He can smell Castiel and himself more than ever, and he doesn't want to move his hand away, but the scent infuriates him just as much as it turns him on.

His hair's a mess, there's a stain on the hem of his wrinkled shirt, also a button missing, and another bruise blooming over his collarbone in the shape of Castiel's teeth.

Dean rips his hand away from his mouth and slams it on the steering wheel. " _FUCK_!" he shouts. It's then he starts to shake. Panic claws at his chest. Into his throat. He needs to go. Get home. Wash his clothes. Burn them. Wash himself. Fuck, he's glad that Sam knows all about the best brands of pheromone-neutralizing laundry detergents and soaps. He'll need gallons of both. And some spray for his car. And...

He blinks. How in the hell did he get home already? He's so off about Cas that he hadn't even noticed that he'd been _driving_? Great. Just fucking _great_. So now he's endangering other people's lives because of his own inability to act like a level headed human being. He jabs the button to raise the garage door, pulls the car in, and kills the ignition, putting the garage door down immediately. It's calming to listen to nothing but the ticking of the engine as it cools with no other distractions.

"I fucked up," he murmurs. "Every step I've taken with Cas has been wrong."

He can't understand it in the slightest. Sure, dealing with interpersonal relationships has never been his strongest skill, but he can't remember fumbling so many plays with one person before. His foot in mouth disease appears to be Castiel-exclusive.

"Was I this stupid with you?" he asks Benny. There's no answer, but he likes to imagine that Benny's up there in Heaven laughing his ass off. _"Smooth as sandpaper, Winchester,"_ he'd say.

Dean leans forward and knocks his head against the steering wheel. "I'm a fucking idiot."

He doesn't get very long to contemplate his new state of being because his cell phone rings in the passenger seat. It's his dad. He contemplates not picking it up. He hasn't spoken to his father properly outside of brief texts in months now. But he palms the phone and swipes the screen right before it goes to voicemail. His dad isn't going to ambush him about Benny or Mom or anything else on the phone. He's not that type of guy. "Hey, Dad," he says, attempting to keep his voice light. He's thankful scent doesn't travel over the phone.

"Hey, Dean. You got a minute?"

He doesn't sound upset or overly serious. Dean leans back against the cooling leather interior and closes his eyes. "Sure. Just got home from work. What's up?"

"Sam texted me this morning about when I was planning to fly in for Christmas. Thought I'd give you a head's up, too."

Dean opens his eyes. Christmas? Already? Shit, what day is it? "I lost track of the time."

John's laugh is warm. "Go figure. My flight's getting in Friday. Twelve o'clock. Can you pick me up?"

"Yeah, sure. Garth likes to work over the holidays. He does the whole Santa thing at the Christmas festival, and there aren't many patrols since the parks are closed for a few weeks before ice fishing season, so I'll be home a lot, or just on call. He doesn't care if I'm in the office or not as long as I keep my radio on."

"That'll be great. Heard you and Sam got your houses fixed up nice."

Dean absently scratches his ear. "Mostly. Sam's spare bathroom is still torn up, but my place is done. How long are you staying? We can both put you up as long as you want."

"I'm off the hook for Kate's family shit," John says brightly. "She and Adam are going to visit her parents, and they still hate me, so..."

"Aw, I'm gonna miss seeing Adam. How's he doing?"

"Fine," John says fondly. "He's got hockey so it wouldn't have made sense to fly him out with me. You and Sam need to get down here some time next year."

"I will," Dean promises. "After I save up the vacation time." He really will. He likes Kate and Adam. Too bad his step mother's family hates the fact that John's been bonded before and doesn't think he's good enough for their precious daughter. They're incredibly old fashioned and believe that "true bonds" only happen once in a lifetime. Which is bullshit. They're obviously bonded. They're a wonderful couple. For his part, Dean is just slightly ambivalent about the strength of their bond, though he'd never say anything about it to his dad. Not when the man's as happy as he is. 

He shakes off the thoughts and confirms his dad's flight and times. They hang up, and by then, Dean's cheered up enough that he doesn't feel like falling off a cliff after his encounter with Castiel. Instead, he contemplates the upcoming visit. John's planning to stay until the 30th; traveling back to meet up at home with Kate and Adam to ring in the New Year. There's plenty that they can do together in that time. He can abuse his authority to take his dad up the trails, show him the local sights. Such as they are. Halcyon is a sleepy town. He hopes the old man approves.

It'll be great to have him around in the new house with Sam like old times. One thing he does miss about Kansas is being able to go back to the family home every now and then. His dad and Kate are awesome, really. They're a good couple, treat all the kids fairly, have an "open door" policy when any of them just need to come home, and John makes the best damn apple pies that Dean's ever tasted. That alone is enough to make him homesick.

Mostly, Dean just likes going home to the scent of family. Even he and Sam have been there often enough in their adult years that their scents have stayed in the home; probably forever sunk into the walls by now. It's his childhood. An almost tactile reminder of the good times. Some bad times, but overwhelmingly comfortable and happy. As much as he likes to focus on the present and future, he occasionally misses Mary's smell around the house. He can't bring the specifics to mind at all anymore, but he remembers the impression as clear as day. How welcoming the mating bond between his parents had felt. How whole. Kate's is all right, but it's not... as intense as Dean remembers it with his mom. 

That's why he worries. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he wonders if Kate's parents have it right, at least a little. Those thoughts bring him right back to Castiel and their current problem. Everything he knows about Castiel in the practical sense from his normal brain, and in the emotional sense from his hindbrain, suggests that the other alpha would be a great match for him. They _could_ bond fully. And it _could_ be wonderful. But what _if_? No matter how much time passes after Benny, Dean's indelibly marked by him. Not just by the blood bond scar forever on his neck, but also by the memories. He'll forget the details eventually just like with his mother, but he'll never forget the strength of the bond. And if he can't have something as equally profound... well, he feels like he'll just be letting himself and Castiel down. It's not good enough to settle because he's lonely, or they're scent compatible. Their personalities have to work. They have to be committed, and they have to have a bond that's equally as good as the ones they've lost. _Cas deserves that._ Yeah. He really fucking does.

Dean opens the car door and slides out into the cool garage. He's going to have to talk to his dad about all of this. Dean's not a "feelings" guy, but John knows that. He's also the only person Dean trusts enough to be no-holds-barred honest with such a sensitive topic. Until today, Dean would have shoved it all away completely, but he's forced himself into a corner now. It's too late to ignore and deflect. He needs an outside opinion because he and Cas have gone too far to put it aside. They'll have to make a call sooner rather than later. Pursue the potential to bond, or stay out of each other's lives completely. Dean rubs a hand over his chest as he closes the interior entry door behind him and kicks off his shoes. The thought of "never again" makes him hurt. But it's a possibility that he has to consider now, like it or not. Ready or not.

xxXXxx

The Christmas season descends in the blink of an eye. Work is easy now that the parks are closed for the winter thanks to snow and ice before ice fishing season, though there are still plenty of jobs to be done. Not that Dean minds. He does miss going out into the fresh air in the quiet, but he also likes how Garth has brought in wood and fragrant pine branches to burn in the station's fireplace. It almost feels like a rustic lodge in the middle of nowhere iif Dean doesn't bother to look out the window to the rest of the town. He even enjoys the fancy hot chocolate and peppermint marshmallows that mysteriously appear next to the coffee maker.

There are fairy lights hung that Dean likes, everyone is pleasant despite the rush to finish decorating and holiday shopping, his gifts are all bought, the snow looks beautiful blanketing the town, and Dean Winchester can say that he is officially in the holiday spirit.

Of course, there are a few dampers on the mood. Every so often, he sees Castiel. Not too frequently, but when Dean has a particularly early shift, he'll spot the other alpha driving behind the alley to park instead of opening the clinic from the front as he used to do. Otherwise, he's starting to think that the man is a ghost. He doesn't go to the cafe or deli, and other than glimpsing him leaving the grocery store with Claire once, Castiel seems to not exist.

The day before their father is due to arrive, Sam calls Dean over to his house for a last minute holiday planning session. They've arranged their schedules to make sure that John isn't left alone on any particular day. When John Winchester gets bored by himself, he snoops. Possibly rearranges. Definitely makes a nuisance. They've both learned their lessons in the past. They just have to make sure that their schedules are airtight.

Dean trudges up Sam's front steps at 7:00 on the dot, and rings the bell, pleased to hear it inside. Damn thing's been broken forever. And he's in a damn fine mood. Beef stew and bad Christmas movies always improve his attitude.

Then the door opens.

"Hell, no," Dean snarls, whipping around.

A hand grabs his leather jacket. "Don't be that way, Dean-o," Gabriel says lightly with a warning undercurrent. "If y'don't come in from the cold, Sam's gonna be sad."

Dean bats Gabriel's hand away, taking a moment to breathe deeply. _Calm the hell down. This ain't the first time Sam's ambushed you_.

True. But it's the worst time.

He turns back and shoves past Gabriel, not bothering to be polite. He's pissed. This ain't right during the holidays. "Sam, you're an asshole!" he calls down the hallway towards the kitchen. He can hear Gabriel trotting behind him, but ignores the omega for now. He finds his brother in the kitchen, holding out two beers, and looking extremely guilty. He can smell it over the beef stew. The stew smells awesome.

"It's not what you think," Sam says meekly.

"The hell it ain't," Dean answers, swiping the beer. "You two dicks are here to give me the third degree about Cas, and I won't sit here and let you. First of all, it's none of your damn business. Second of all, I don't deserve it this time."

"I know," Gabriel cuts in. He steps up to Sam and drops and arm over his shoulders, dangling his own beer and leaning casually against the younger Winchester. "Like Sam here said; I'm not gonna lecture you. Now can we please sit down and talk like grownups?"

Gabriel's words do nothing to appease Dean. He watches the two men warily as they sit at the table, and only after they're seated, does he follow. He plants his beer firmly on the table and then crosses his arms over his chest, radiating distrust. Sam grimaces. "Dean, please."

"What."

Gabriel sighs noisily. "Okay, I'll do it, then. Dean, you and my baby brother went tit-for-tat in a big way with each other, so I'm not going to read you the riot act on his behalf. You screwed the pooch and then he decided to escalate the idiocy. Kudos to the both of you for being so entertainingly dumb."

"Then why are you here?" Dean demands.

"I was invited."

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. "I swear to God, Gabe."

Sam shakes his head at Gabriel and says, "it's a check-in, not an intervention. We saw Cas the other day. And after that, well, we figured you might need some support, too."

"Support for _what_?" The bitterness in his tone is impossible to cover up. 

"For doing your best to hurt each other," Gabriel says bluntly.

That stops Dean short. He opens his mouth, but no retort comes. The only thing he can think to say is, "I apologized. He didn't want to hear it."

The two lovebirds exchange a look. Sam gives Gabriel a pointed look, and Gabriel answers by shrugging. Gross couple-y shit.

Sam scoots his chair closer to the table. "Cas kinda said the same thing about it."

"Glad he agrees with me." It feels good to be so bitter at the moment. He hasn't had anyone at all to bitch to about this whole fiasco, so there's a definite level of catharsis here.

Gabriel seems to have given up on helping the confrontation for the time being. The silent exchange between the two of them was passing the buck along. Dean has the distinct impression that the roles were reversed when the pair spoke to Castiel. Dean's just a tiny bit grateful that Sam's the one taking the helm. Dean doesn't hate Gabriel by any stretch of the imagination, but they aren't friends, either. For sure he's not someone Dean wants to open up to.

Sam purses his lips, thinking. "I'm gonna ask you something, but you don't have to answer right away, if you don't want to."

Dean braces himself.

"Are you going to give up on Cas for good now?"

The question shocks Dean to stillness, though if he thinks about it, it's a perfectly reasonable question. Possibly the most important question for either him or Castiel. But it's never occurred to him to be the one to initiate a forever sort of break. Not Dean. Why would he? Even if he should, it doesn't feel like it's in the realm of possibility at all. He can't even imagine it. "No," he says before it's a fully formed thought.

For some reason the answer makes both Sam and Gabriel smile.

That makes Dean supremely uncomfortable. "What now?" he mutters.

Sam lifts a shoulder. "Nothing. I just think that's great. I mean, you and Cas... there's something there."

Dean slouches against the table on his forearms. "I'm not ready to say that. But I don't want to write him off forever, either. I thought maybe we could at least be friends."

Gabriel's silence is short-lived. "You both need to pull your heads out of your asses."

"Are you this useless to your brother, too?" Dean gripes.

"Yes," Gabriel grins. "Suck it up. I realize you don't give a shit what my opinion is, but you're getting it, anyway. I know my brother better than anyone. You've got him running scared." When Dean's face falls, he barrels on quickly, "but that's a good thing! It means you're making an impression!"

"Yeah, a fucking _bad_ one," Dean says.

"Not even! Dude, Castiel doesn't _hate_ people. He's got two settings." He holds up two fingers. "Love and apathy. He doesn't waste his time on people he can't stand. I'm not saying he's treating you right for the moment, but it takes two to tango. And if he actually hated you, he wouldn't have anything to do with you. He thinks that emotion is a waste of time."

Dean arches an eyebrow. "You're kinda proving my point, Gabe. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"He does, though!" Sam breaks in. "You should have seen him when we talked to him before. He's really broken up about it!"

The whole situation is completely exhausting. Dean's so fucking tired of it all. It's too much to process all at once. He needs time to get it all worked out. "Guys, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but this is between me and Cas. If it works out, fine. If not, well, that sucks, but that's life. Anyway, I'll think about what you said. I just need some time."

Gabriel releases a huge sigh. "We did our due diligence. For the record, I hope you two work it out."

"We will," Dean promises, though he doesn't feel it. "One way or another."

Sam seems to take that as enough of a heartfelt moment and stands from the table, going to the pot simmering on the stove to dish them all up his amazing, hearty stew. Gabriel has brought homemade bread to go with it cut into thick slices.

It's heavenly, and Dean's mood tips up again in no time. Overall, it's a pleasant dinner. The conversation shifts to mundane topics about their jobs, Gabriel's B&B renovations, and plans for the holidays. 

When Dean leaves, he's feeling full and warm despite the bitingly cold night air. His good mood dims somewhat when he's back home and tucked into bed for the night. For the first time, his house feels empty. Too quiet. The thick blankets of snow muting the sounds from outside don't help, either. He pulls his comforter to his chin, sleepy but uneasy. As is his habit these days, it seems, his thoughts drift back to Castiel. He's not going to deny that he really enjoyed what they'd done. Outside the heat of the moment, he still would have enjoyed it. That's the heart of the matter. It's what keeps him awake at night.

xxXXxx

John Winchester gives back-breaking bear hugs. He can't lift Sam off his feet, but he can get Dean pretty good. So good, in fact, that his spine pops when his dad lifts him up and that niggling ache in his lower back that had been bothering him for months since his move, feels totally healed.

John stands between his sons and holds them close as he drags them all towards the baggage claim. "You boys look good," he grins. "The middle of nowhere agrees with you."

"Dad," Sam whines. It sounds so much like when they were kids that Dean laughs. The first, full-bellied honest laugh he's managed in forever.

"Any good fishing here?"

They stop at the single carousel and wait for John's army duffel to make its appearance. It's not long. There aren't many flights in or out. Sam shoulders the bag and Dean guides them to the parking lot.

"Ice fishing doesn't start until January first," Dean says. He knew that question was coming. John Winchester would ask about the fishing in the middle of a desert.

"Shame," John tuts good-naturedly. "Shoulda planned to stay longer." He whistles as they approach the Impala. "Look at that baby," he croons. "She looks better than new!"

Dean beams at his old man. "I fixed her up when I first got here. Bit of a pain in the ass getting some of the parts this far out in the boonies, but it was totally worth it for the final product." He digs the keys out of his pocket and tosses them over his shoulder to his father. 

John strokes his hands over the hood, back window. With a kind of reverence, he unlocks the trunk and gently places his bag inside. Dean smiles. "Sometimes I'm reminded of how well I raised you both."

Sam laughs. "If you're impressed by the car, wait 'til you see how Dean and I fixed up our houses."

John rubs his hands together like he's about to tuck into a feast. "Can't wait! Where to?"

"My place," Dean says. He rides shotgun, Sam hanging over the bench seat between them. They both give John directions while pointing out the sights. John looks more and more flummoxed as they pass through the forest, small town, and up the road to Dean's cabin.

"Wow," John says, bending over to see up out of the windshield, taking in the whole cozy home before pulling into the garage. "Never would have pictured either of you as the wilderness types. I honestly thought it wasn't as remote as you were saying before."

Sam and Dean get out of the car, followed closely by their father, who wastes no time in touring the spacious cabin fully the second they're inside. 

"Lebanon wasn't exactly the big city," Sam points out as they wander idly from room to room. 

"No, it wasn't," John muses. "But this ain't even a one horse town."

Dean shifts from foot to foot. "Don't like it?"

John turns to face his son. His smile splits his whole face. "You kidding? I'm trying to figure out a way to beg Kate to let me buy a summer home up here."

All the tension drains from Dean's shoulders. Sam seems to deflate to a more natural stance as well. He hadn't realized that he'd been nervous about what his father thought of his new life. It's the forever sort of home he's got here, warts and all, so the last thing he wants is for his only other family to hate it.

He points down the hall. "Got the guest room all set up for you. Faces east, so keep the blinds drawn unless you want a rude awakening every morning. Sun's real bright sometimes."

John is pleased by the rustic room decorated in earthy burnt reds and dark,hand-carved wood. The small window offers a great view of the forest and horizon. He drops his bag on the queen bed then kicks off his shoes. "You mind if I act old and take a nap? Flying tires me out."

That's bullshit. Dean inherited his dad's fear of flying, so he's pretty sure the man took a tranquilizer before boarding and needs to sleep the rest of it off. 

"No problem," Dean says. "Figured we'd fire up the grill later. Drink some beers and watch the sunset."

"Wake me up," John answers. 

Sam and Dean leave him in peace and retreat to the living room. "He looks good," Sam says approvingly as he kicks back on the sofa.

Dean goes to the fireplace and drops to his knees. "I agree." He's so glad to have his family all in one place again. It feels right. He stuffs the kindling below the logs and lights it with a long match. It takes quickly, and he tends to it carefully until the smaller pieces have caught. "I'm happy he's here."

"Me, too," Sam says with a wealth of meaning behind it. Dean braces himself for the onslaught of feelings talk. He's surprised when his brother turns it to himself and continues, "I was sort of afraid he'd think we were crazy for coming all the way up here. He thinks I should have stayed in California after graduating. Become a rich and smarmy lawyer."

Dean chuckles. "Why didn't you?"

Sam drapes his arms over the back of the couch. "I missed my family," he answers like it's obvious. "I could have made more money in some huge city doing corporate law, but I think it was worth the pay cut to be near you and him and Kate and Adam."

"Family first," Dean says, staring into the mesmerizing flames.

"Exactly," Sam agrees warmly. "That's exactly it."

Dean's never been so grateful that his brother has stuck with him in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue where this writing frenzy has come from.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel spend time with their families. Their difficult relationship reaches the tipping point.

Castiel feels out to sea when his family descends upon him all in the same day. Apparently, they enjoy wasting money on unnecessary flights to a central hub in order to make the final leg of the journey together for the sole purpose of exploding out of the airport with more noise and good cheer than the rest of the population of Halcyon put together.

Claire is in bliss being able to scream at the top of her voice without anyone reprimanding her in a way that wouldn't highlight the hypocrisy. Anna, Gabriel, Michael, and Cain surround the girl and talk over themselves and each other to get her to pay them attention. Naomi is the one who holds back, taking Castiel's hand and walking slower than the rest of the group.

"You look well," she says kindly. "You smell much more at ease than when you left home."

"And you," Castiel smiles. "I don't think I've ever seen you in jeans before."

Naomi laughs and flips her loose brown hair over her shoulder. "It's true. But this is a vacation. I left all of my suits at home. I only brought one dress." 

He likes it. She's always been warm and loving, but appeared severe with her pinned back hair and tailored suits. In jeans, a flowing blouse, and loose hair, Castiel barely recognizes her. He thinks she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She looks so much younger like this. "Were you expecting this place to be in the true wilderness?" he teases.

She slides her hand up to his elbow, and loops her arm through his. "Perhaps a little. I may have gone overboard and bought an entirely new casual wardrobe. With hiking boots."

Castiel laughs truly. "Well, then we'll have to go up on the trails so I don't disappoint you. I know a park ranger who..." He trails off, horrified at the slip. His face heats and the shift from calm to slight panic doesn't escape his shrewd mother at all.

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It's..." he turns his face away. "Nothing, Mother."

"Translated means, something. We'll talk about it later." She pats his arm and releases him to join the rest of the family as they make it to the the cars. Castiel and Gabriel had driven separately to accommodate everyone comfortably. Naomi, Cain, and Claire ride with Castiel, while Anna and Michael pile in with Gabriel.

Naomi is charmed by the small town, already talking about purchasing a vacation home in the vicinity, before Castiel points out that family can stay free at Gabriel's B&B. Cain wonders about the viability of a bee garden on the estate's property for an extra side income, to which Castiel is more than willing to discuss while Naomi entertains Claire in the back seat.

The B&B looks a little rough on the outside when the cars pull up the gravel drive, but Gabriel has assured them all that he's inspected the rooms that they'll be staying in personally. 

"It looks like a haunted house," Naomi muses as she peers out the window to the estate. The acre of grass in front is overgrown, the paint peeling on the building, and some cosmetic siding has yet to be replaced. "Is it going to be ready in time?"

Castiel shrugs as he pulls up to the staff entrance at the side of the driveway where the garages are located. "He says that he has the painters coming out in a few days if the weather holds. And the siding should be repaired before then, too. I was here yesterday and the inside is lovely. The top floor rooms aren't fully decorated, so you'll be staying in the finished rooms on the second floor, but I believe it will be done in time. He's got his opening staff arriving the first week of January, so he'd better be."

"He knows what he's doing," Cain assures them all, opening his door and stepping out. The Novak family is as noisy inside as they were outside, the children arguing about which room is whose, and what to do while they're here.

Gabriel lets them explore for a time before clapping his hands and yelling for everyone to gather in the foyer. Doors slam and footsteps rumble as everyone meets in the spacious common room. "I've made us reservations this evening at the best... okay, _only_ fine dining establishment in town. No need to dress up too much, but put some effort in. Reservation's at seven, so you can do what you want settling in until then, as long as you don't burn the place down."

Claire clings to Castiel's leg. She's never been in the sprawling manor, and isn't sure where she's allowed to go. That suits Castiel just fine. The place is large enough to lose a child in an instant. He picks her up and plants her against his hip. "You're starting to get too heavy for this," he smiles at her.

"Yep," Claire answers. But she doesn't try to get down. She sticks her thumb resolutely in her mouth and plops her head down on her father's shoulder.

Naomi steps over and runs her fingers through Claire's curls. "Will she be all right at the restaurant? I'd be more than happy to stay behind if she's not."

"She'll be fine if she gets a nap," Castiel assures her. "I've taken her out plenty of times. If she gets unruly, I'll give her my tablet and the headphones." He grins at Naomi's displeased look. "It's a different time, Mother. Parents these days have it easier entertaining their children in public than you did."

"I know," she answers. "It's infuriating."

He chuckles. "I'm sorry. However, I promise that you can wrestle her through her bedtime routine as much as you want. I'm sure none of that difficulty has changed."

"I will, thank you," Naomi answers. She kisses Claire on her cheek and then wanders up the sprawling front stairs to freshen up in her room.

He is so happy to have them all here.

xxXXxx

"Glad I brought this monkey suit along on a whim," John says as he grudgingly hands over the keys of the Impala to a valet. "How in the hell is there valet in such a town?"

"Go with it, Dad," Sam laughs.

"They even take _reservations_ here," Dean snarks, adjusting his tie and leading the way into the upscale Italian restaurant. 

"Burgers aren't good enough for you anymore?" John says."Yours were pretty damn good yesterday."

He shrugs. "Haven't had a reason to eat here yet. It'll be fun. Big portions, y'know?" He leans against the hostess stand and gives his name with a flirtatious wink. 

The young woman rolls her eyes with a smile. "Right this way, Ranger Winchester. Your table's ready." She leads the threesome to a booth near the front windows and passes them their menus. "Enjoy your dinner."

"Thanks, Alex," Sam says politely. He slides in next to the window, Dean beside him, and John sitting opposite.

John opens his menu, but keeps his eyes on his boys. "You know everyone in Halcyon already?"

"Small town," Sam answers vaguely, perusing the dinner options.

Dean leans forward over his menu and stage whispers, "he knows her because he gave her a pass from jail when I brought her in for smoking pot up on the hunting trails."

John laughs. "Didn't know you were such a hard-ass, Dean."

"Psh." Dean waves him off and turns back to his menu.

A lively debate follows about appetizers to share that starts to get heated enough between the brothers that John holds up his hand in a stopping motion. "I really have to remind you of how to solve your problems in a mature manner?"

Both brothers groan. Sam holds up his fist. Dean stares him down hard and mirrors him. 

Dean's scissors lose to Sam's rock, and they order a round of expensive red wine with fried calamari and some fancy flatbread topped with arugula, parmesan cheese, and prosciutto. "Why's there gotta be lettuce on it?" Dean mutters when it arrives, though he's got to admit that it tastes better than the normal leafy green shit Sam tries to feed him.

They're on their second glasses of wine when an energetic group enters the restaurant. Sam and Dean are facing away from the door, but John glances up and smiles with a nostalgic expression as they wait to be seated. 

"Gotta pee," Dean says brightly just to see the disgusted look on Sam's face. 

He stands up and makes it two steps before something crashes into the backs of his knees. "DEEDEE!" a familiar small voice hollers.

_Oh, shit_. Dean takes a deep breath and plasters on the biggest smile that he can. It feels totally fake. He turns and looks down. Sure enough. "Hey, Claire-bear," he says cheerfully edging on hysterically. He doesn't pick her up or touch her as she clings to his legs. And it takes every ounce of willpower to raise his eyes to see Castiel and... uh... his posse. Out of the corner of his eye he can see his dad staring back and forth with wide eyes. Sam is going to be no help here.

"Dean," Castiel says. His voice gives nothing away so Dean has no clue how to proceed.

The man looks incredible. He wears a suit at the clinic that looks awesome, of course, but he's taken extra care tonight. His hair is combed and gelled, and he's wearing a dark blue knitted sweater over his black dress pants that clings to his chest and brings out his eyes. "Castiel," he says hoarsely. He has to tear his gaze away, but regrets it when it lands on Gabriel, who looks exactly like the cat who got the canary.

A lovely woman who must be Castiel's mother floats forward and offers her hand. "Please excuse my son's atrocious manners. I'm Castiel's mother, Naomi Novak." Dean takes her hand gently, but he doesn't smell a trap. Just the same polite curiosity as is showing on her face. She shakes it and then releases him and gestures behind her. "I assume you know Gabriel as well. My husband, Cain, and my other children, Anna and Michael."

"Dean Winchester." He steps back to bring his father into view. "My dad, John Winchester, and my brother, Sam."

Naomi greets them all politely and then turns to Alex. "I'm sorry for the delay."

Alex shrugs like it's no big deal. She steps around Dean with a sly smile and leads the family on. When Gabriel passes the table, he raises his thumb and pinky to his ear and mouths "call me," to Sam with an exaggerated wink. Castiel lingers behind to extract Claire from Dean's legs. She goes with a small whimper of protest that breaks Dean's heart. 

Then Castiel brushes his shoulder against Dean's as he moves past. "Forgive me," he murmurs so softly that Dean's sure he misheard over the din of the restaurant.

He's not quite so keen on his lobster ravioli when it arrives a minute later, and completely forgets that he had to use the restroom. The three of them are silent for a beat.

"So," Sam starts with forced lightness. "That went well."

John catches on in an instant and Dean wants to kick his brother under the table. But they're in an expensive restaurant. Darkly, he thinks he'll just add it to his tab for later violence. "What's the deal there?" John asks.

Dean digs into his ravioli and stuffs his face so he can avoid the question for a while, even though he's lost his appetite.

John starts on his chicken, but he's not letting the question go. However, seeing as how Dean isn't about to spill the story, he turns to Sam. "Samuel?"

Sam places his knife and fork down on his plate. "That was the new doctor here, Castiel Novak. He and Dean... are acquaintances."

"Uh, huh."

"The other older brother, Gabriel, is my boyfriend."

Dean takes back the black mark against Sam mentally for turning the focus so easily on himself. John takes the bait. "He's the one you were telling me about?"

"Yeah," Sam beams, looking like a puppy who's just been showered with praise. "I'll introduce you properly some time soon. He's a little different, but you'll like him. Maybe we could get together for coffee or lunch or something."

"I'd like that," John says. "Good for you, Sam. Tell me all about him so I got some ammo to give him the third degree."

It's easy enough for Sam to expound on his boyfriend and answer all of his father's questions, leaving Dean in peace. He's glad he doesn't have to add to the conversation much because he's distracted by Castiel and his family at one of the larger round tables in the center of the restaurant. They sound so _happy_. He can even hear Castiel every now and then, talking to Claire or laughing with the rest of his family. Like he can ignore Dean without a second thought. Which sucks. What had he meant by the "forgive me" thing? The longer Dean sits there, the more he wonders if he really heard it or not. It's hard to enjoy the rest of the meal, and is relieved when they finish their tiramisu and coffee and go back home. It was stifling in the restaurant.

Sam elects to go home after collecting his car back at Dean's house, promising to be back in the morning for breakfast. Dean walks him to the curb. "Thanks," he says. 

"Don't thank me. I only bought you time at dinner. Dad's curious and he's going to ask."

"I know that."

"Talk to him," Sam advises again. "He might be able to help. And before you say you don't need it, you do." He unlocks his car and slides in before Dean can argue. Not like he would. Sam's right. Dean knows he's totally lost in this situation and his dad is the only one he knows who will really understand. He waves to Sam as his brother pulls away into the darkness. 

Dean trudges back inside shedding his suit as he goes. He hears his dad in the kitchen as he walks past on the way to his bedroom. He puts on his most comfortable jersey pajamas, thick wool socks, and shuffles back to find his father. Might as well be cozy if he's going to be lectured. John's not in the kitchen, but the door leading out to the back porch is open. Dean grabs his coat and heads out.

John holds out a beer wordlessly as Dean steps up beside him near the retractable windows facing the forest and stream that runs the back length of the property. "Nice call on the outdoor heat lamp," he says. It's starting to snow again, and they both watch it quietly for a minute.

"It'd be a waste to only use the porch half the year."

"Yeah."

"Tell me about him," John says contemplatively.

Considering ignorance, Dean sips his beer. It's no use. There's no time like the present. Especially while the last encounter is still so fresh in his memory. So, Dean talks. He glosses over some of the private details, but gives his dad the gist of it. From start to finish. Until he's admitting, "the whole scent bonding thing has just screwed everything up. The last time I had it so strong, I proposed to the guy. And I know it won't be the same. It wouldn't be what a real marriage is like."

John eyes his son for a beat. "Well, what the hell did you think a _real_ marriage was like?"

"Dad," Dean counters dryly, "I've been married."

John snorts. "Yeah, no shit. I mean, what do you think happens after? Dean." He stops Dean from walking away with a firm hand on his shoulder. Clearly he's not going to let him deflect until the cows come home anymore. The look on his face is sincere and there's nothing weird about his scent. It's calm as a lazy Sunday. Dean remembers it. Misses how it used to settle him. The scent of his bond with Mom is long gone, replaced by his bond with Kate, but it's still familiar. "Talk to me, son. There's something going on, and you can't deny it. You're a shitty liar and I can smell it on you, anyway."

Dean heaves a sigh and gestures to the porch swing. John sits and plants his feet to hold it steady while Dean joins him. "I'm just... I'm afraid it's not gonna be the same."

John sets his empty bottle on the ground with a short laugh. "Of course it won't be the same. It's not Benny."

Dean expects a flood of pain at the mention of his name, but... 

John points at him shrewdly. "That's what I'm talking about. It doesn't hurt so much anymore, does it?"

"No," he admits softly. 

"It means you're getting there. You're not ever gonna lose that love You had for him, but you'll make room for more. You know, I'm trying hard to understand where you're coming from here, Dean, but I don't. You've never in your life feared change, but here you are telling me you're scared to love again because it won't be like what you had. Why?"

It's hard to explain. He doesn't really want to since he's afraid his dad might take it the wrong way. _Start small_ , Sam had advised. _Take it slow. Say what you're feeling_. "I can smell your bond with Kate," he starts.

John lifts an eyebrow. "Obviously."

Rolling his eyes, he takes a long pull of his beer. "I mean... don't take this the wrong way, but it doesn't seem as strong as what you had with Mom. And I worry that... with me 'n Cas... I don't want either of us settling for second best. Or something. Fuck, I don't know how to explain it without sounding like an asshole." He can barely bring himself to look his father in the face after saying something so insulting, but when he chances to glance up, his dad is smiling. It takes him aback.

" _That's_ been the holdup? Because of me you think that you can't have something as strong as you did with Benny?"

"Yeah," Dean breathes explosively. "And if I can't, then what's the damn point?"

John looks like he's understood all the mysteries of the universe in this very moment and Dean sure would like to get in on some of that action. "Dean, Kate isn't your mom."

Now it's his turn to say, "obviously."

John punches him lightly on the shoulder. "Did you fall asleep in sex ed? No bond will ever smell as strong to a child as his birth parents'."

Oh. "What the hell?"

He knows his dad isn't trying to be mean, but the laugh at his expense makes Dean flush. "Son, you've been ignoring basic biology here and it's turned your head around."

"I never thought about it," Dean mutters. "I mean, Sam's never said anything about it, either, so I just thought... I don't fucking know. I don't know what to think about _anything_ anymore."

"You're being overly dramatic," John grins. "It ain't rocket science, but you've never been good at inner reflection like your brother is, so I'm not gonna sit here and call you a total idiot. Sam doesn't remember Mary at all so he's got no point of comparison. You though," he claps Dean on the shoulder again. "You remember her quite a bit. And the reason you were under the impression Kate wasn't as good a match is because the bond between your parents will always be the most important one, aside from whoever you mate."

"Is she though?" Dean asks, not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice.

John turns his head to face his son fully. "Is she what? As good for me as your mom?"

His throat is suddenly clogged with too much emotion. He can't swallow past it, and he sure as shit isn't going to sit here and cry it out in front of his father, so he nods.

His dad gets it. He always did. John drops his arm around Dean's shoulders and pulls him against his side roughly. He rests his chin on Dean's head while Dean blinks back tears at the familiarity of the embrace. The smell of his dad's cologne mixed with his natural pheromones that have always sung of home and safety. Honesty. "She is," John says quietly. "She's not your mom, but she's the same kind of miracle. It can happen twice, Dean. I swear to God it can."

That fucking does it. And for once in his life, Dean doesn't even try to fight it. The tears fall against his father's leather jacket, and John sits still, letting Dean have it out. Solid and unwavering as always. Dean hasn't cried on his dad's shoulder since forever, but the catharsis is worth the slight embarrassment of being thirty and needing his dad to wipe his damn nose. 

He closes his eyes and feels like a kid again for a while. It's nice. Maybe exactly what he's needed. When he was young, he'd had a lot of hope. It's not like he's some huge pessimist now, but life experience has made him jaded over time. He wants to be truly content again. He craves it. And his dad is positive that it can happen. Maybe, just maybe, it is. Dean thought his dad knew everything once upon a time. He's prepared to think the same right now. It gives him peace. It's wonderful.

xxXXxx

Castiel calls for whoever it is knocking on his door to enter once he finishes buttoning his pajama top. Naomi stands in the doorway dressed in her nightgown and robe, hair loose around her shoulders. "Mother," he says. He knows why she's here. The look on her face is unmistakable.

She sits on the edge of the opulent king sized bed and pats the space next to her. Castiel sits obediently, marveling at the feel of the memory foam mattress. How much had Gabriel spent on this place? He shakes his distracted thought away. "You want to know about Dean Winchester."

"Yes, I do," she answers, taking his hand. "I smelled your distress, and as your mother, I didn't like it. I'm assuming he's the park ranger you almost talked about at the airport." Castiel nods his assent in defeat. "What did that man do to you?"

"Nothing," Castiel insists immediately. That's not entirely true. "We... did things to each other."

Her grip shifts to wrap around his shoulders. "Tell me everything."

Every word he tells her feels like it's lifting some of the weight off of his shoulders. He almost can't believe it. 

His mother doesn't get upset during the whole story. She's a calm, unshakable presence beside him through it all, only interrupting to ask questions when necessary. By the end of it, he's leaning against her heavily and she's stroking his hair. "Dear boy," she murmurs. "You've got yourself into a mess."

"Yes," he agrees brokenly. He feels so dangerously close to tears, but doesn't want to let them fall. He's tired of always being so sad in front of his mother.

"Do you want him?"

Castiel wouldn't have been able to answer that even twenty minutes ago. But after talking through everything; feeling it again... "I want to try," he says thickly. 

Naomi lifts Castiel off of her shoulder and scoots to face him, cupping his cheeks. She smiles. "You can take it slow. You should. It sounds like you jumped into the deep end with Dean, and though I understand how you could, it was wrong. Nothing you've told me sounds irreparable. But from here on, you should take the steps in the right order. That's the only honorable thing to do."

"Yes, Mother." He believes her. Desperately, he does.

Naomi stands, pulling Castiel up with her. She moves to the head of the bed and turns down the sheets.

Smiling, Castiel lets his mother tuck him in as she did when he was a boy. She leans over him, wafting her gentle scent as she kisses his forehead. "Will it be the same?" he muses softly.

She straightens. "Of course not. Amelia is entirely different from Dean. However, your real question is different. You're wondering if another bond will be as strong as what you had before. If it will be as good and as meaningful."

"Yes," he admits.

She smooths the wrinkle on his brow with her thumb. "I don't know for sure, but I think it will. If you care enough, it will."

"I'm not good at being bold."

Her laugh is airy. "No, but you _are_ good at loving people and forgiving them. It's what your strength is. I've always admired your heart, Castiel."

"I love you, Mother."

"I love you, too." She walks to the door, opens it, turns again, and then blows her son a kiss. "You don't have to decide anything tonight. Just sleep without worrying. I'll see to Claire in the morning."

"Good night."

Naomi shuts the door softly behind her.

For the first time in a long time, Castiel does exactly as his mother suggests. He falls into a deep sleep and doesn't wake until the sun's up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. So many chapters so fast! I'll need to slow down next week, but no worries! Y'all will still get regular updates on this! I just can't spoil you quite as much. :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean finally use their words.

"Get up, you lazy ass!" Sam yells.

Dean groans and rolls over, stuffing the covers over his head. "No." He feels hungover. Wrung out. Exhausted. He had slept easily after his talk with his father the night before, but in the literal cold light of day, he feels like he's been put through the emotional wringer.

"Dean. Dean. DeanDean _Dean_!"

"If you jump on my goddamn bed, I will kill you."

"There's coffee on. Dad's making a super greasy breakfast. Come on, man. It's ten already. Day's wasting! We're going Christmas shopping!"

Dean pulls the covers down just under his chin. "Why the hell can't I sleep in on my own damn vacation?"

"You already have. Get up or I'm eating all the sausage."

"Don't care."

"It's venison."

Dean scrambles out of the bed and the pair of them thunder into the kitchen, shoving and trying to trip each other up.

"For the love of God," John says fondly without turning around from the stove. "Why haven't you idiots grown out of your wrestling matches yet?"

"Boys will be boys," Dean chirps, yanking Sam into a satisfying headlock.

Sam pounds on his brother's arm for mercy. "Dean's an asshole," he chokes. He's released and lunges for his brother. Dean dodges around the table. They square off on opposite sides, each twitching at the slightest movement from the other.

"I can ground you," John says calmly.

"It's _my_ house!" Dean says, not taking his eyes off of Sam.

"You've still got a room I can lock you in. Dean, plates and silverware. Sam, coffee and napkins. Knock it off or I won't get either of you anything good for Christmas."

They both know all the tricks in each other's handbooks by this age, so they remain in a stalemate until John physically breaks their concentration by grabbing Dean by the back of the collar and bodily dragging him to the cupboard. "Two alpha sons. I swear I went wrong in a past life to deal with this shit," he gripes.

"Damn right you did," Dean says smugly.

John smacks him on the back of the head. "It's like you _want_ me to spit in your food."

"That's harassment!" Dean complains, rubbing the back of his head. "This is exactly what you did in a past life to suffer now." Even so, he scoots out of his father's reach and gathers the utensils. Man, he needed a morning like this. He feels like a kid again wrestling with Sam. Back-talking his father. This could have been any morning in hundreds he'd had before adulthood. Who is he kidding? He and Sam have pulled this shit every single time they've been around their father since they could walk.

He's setting the table and Sam is pouring the coffee when John brings over the sausage and eggs. Pan roasted potatoes with diced onions come next. And cheese grits. Dean grins as he takes his seat. He drowns his full plate in ketchup and pepper.

"Want some food with your ketchup?" Sam asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll think about it," Dean answers, scooping up a bite of each thing onto his fork and eating noisily to annoy Sam. It earns him another smack on the head from his father and a stern reminder to use his damn manners. He doesn't care. It's all delicious.

John fills his own plate before asking, "is there anywhere to do decent shopping for gifts around here?"

"Not really," Sam says. "There's an outlet mall a couple hours away. It's got most of the good stores."

"I want a remote controlled helicopter," Dean says around his mouthful of eggs. "Sam wants a nail gun."

Sam laughs, nearly spitting coffee out of his nose. "Fuck you!"

"It barely went half way through, you big baby."

John chuckles. "Seriously, Sammy. That was a rookie move. I taught you better."

"Didn't have much money after the move," Sam protests, insulted. "The nail gun works just fine. I got distracted, is all."

"Like I said, rookie move."

"I'm not getting either of you anything. That'll save money," Sam grumbles.

"Leave your brother alone, Dean."

"What the hell?! I didn't do anything! You're ganging up on me in my own home?!"

"Yes," John and Sam say together.

"Worst family ever."

"You never had it so good," John returns.

He snipes with his brother though the rest of breakfast. Dean throws a ketchup-y potato slice at Sam, and Sam valiantly answers the call with half a spoonful of grits flung back. A pinch of eggs splat against Sam's shirt, and he can't let that injustice stand, so his next bit of grits hits Dean right on his hairline. John makes them stop when Dean grabs a counterattack. "You waste that venison sausage, and I will shoot you both with Sam's gimpy nail gun."

Both Dean and Sam belligerently put down their weapons because their dad really might ground them. Sam shows his teeth and Dean flips him off.

Gradually, as breakfast progresses, Dean realizes what's going on. His father must have told Sam what happened last night when Dean lost it. Shit. However, Sam's obviously showing his approval without making a thing of it, which Dean appreciates on all levels. And the great mood seriously helps him cope. 

After they're finished eating, Sam puts away the leftovers, such as they are, while Dean rinses the dirty dishes and puts them into the dishwasher. He makes sure to spray Sam with the detachable head before shutting off the water and running to his bedroom before his brother can get him back. He locks the door for good measure, just in case, because he wouldn't put it past Sam to burst in while Dean is naked and changing clothes to do something horrible in retaliation.

Once they're showered and ready, they argue again about whose car to take to the outlet mall. Sam insists that his fuel efficient clown car is the way to go, but Dean says style and legroom are important. John breaks the tie after seeing Sam's car and has to agree that the classics are to be upheld for any road trip, gas mileage be damned. Sam rolls his eyes, but doesn't complain further. He's not the one paying to fill up the gas guzzling Impala, and Dean knows Sam does enjoy riding shotgun with his brother like they used to do in college. Some of his fondest memories were of driving out to Stanford to pick Sam up for summer vacation, stuffing his whole dorm room into every nook and cranny of the car, and then taking nearly a week of meandering back roads and wide open highway to get back to Kansas. He still has a photo album of all the seedy motels they stayed in and bizarre tourist traps they went to just to kill some time together. It's awesome now, too, with John stretched out in the backseat humming along to AC/DC while the rumble of the engine sings to them during the two hour drive south.

The calm ends once they get there, though. The outlet mall is complete chaos, and only a healthy dose of swearing and flipping people off gets Dean a parking space. It's as far away from the stores as they can possibly get. "Don't buy anything heavy," Dean says darkly. He's finished his Christmas shopping already, but still needs to pick up a few small things for stocking stuffers. He tells his family he's headed to the discount store and Sam makes a face. 

"How are you a Christmas shopping overachiever?"

"Amazon."

"Cheating!"

"Suck it. We live in the middle of nowhere."

John sighs. "You bicker like old women. Get going. We'll meet at that pizza place in two hours."

Dean gives a lazy salute and he's off. The discount store isn't overly crowded, and he's glad for that. Something about living in the wilderness has made him more wary of unfamiliar places filled with even more unfamiliar people. Either that, or it's the anxiety he had in Kansas still with its hooks in him. Regardless, he's thankful he doesn't have to throw elbows to get his shopping done.

He hits up the travel supplies for Sam. He tosses small bottles of toothpaste, hand sanitizer, lotion, shaving cream, and dental floss into his basket. He laughs to himself about it, more when he realizes that Sam will actually probably _like_ having a practical stocking. But he also adds in some gum, the chewy mints he likes, and Tootsie Rolls. He also grabs a pen that has a naked lady who removes her bikini when you tilt it down. It's in very bad taste. 

He also gets one for his dad along with gummy candy, lollipops, puzzle books, and cheap socks. Those will definitely go over well. Then he picks up Hershey Kisses, peppermint patties, and a couple of gingerbread houses to decorate. If they're having a family Christmas, they might as well go all out.

He's wandering to the back of the store just making a final run to see if there's anything else that looks interesting, when he pauses by a small yellow display. Bees. He remembers Castiel's Halloween costume. Those stupid scrubs he'd worn. There's a plush toy only as big as his hand that looks exactly like the fat bees on the scrubs. He puts it into the basket. And then a yellow and black striped pen with a bee on a flower on top. Also a pair of juice glasses featuring the flying bees with the dotted lines behind them. They're perfect. As perfect as the bee and flower cookie cutters that are packaged with several colors of decorative frosting. Dean's smiling as he adds them to the basket as well. Castiel might not want to be lovers or even friends, but when he considers it, Dean thinks it would be weird to not get him anything at all. Plus, Claire will like them, too. He and Claire are buddies. It's not strange to address the gifts to Cas _and_ Claire. That makes sense.

He pays for his purchases before he can talk himself out of any of them, and wanders back outside. It's fucking freezing, but there's a coffee shop that he ducks into. He orders a plain coffee and holds it in both hands while he wastes time window shopping after warming up again.

Most people look so happy. There are some people who appear to be hating every second of holiday shopping; he even catches a whiff of annoyance here and there. But overall, the mood is pretty joyful. Lots of kids running off their boredom and excitement around the candy shop and central courtyard. Dean sits on the edge of the empty water fountain to the side and watches them. The families meeting up by the large clock in the center of the courtyard. The couples meandering close together to share warmth. The children begging their parents for just _one piece of the candy store's fudge, please!_. 

These people are all strangers. The place is alien to him. There aren't any memories here save for the one's he's forming right now. His anxiety slowly begins to fade more. He lets the crowds ebb and flow around him without worry. Aside from the temperature edging towards uncomfortably frigid, he's content. An hour doing nothing while waiting for Sam and John doesn't bother him at all.

Of course, the pizza joint is blessedly warm and smells _fantastic_.

Sam and John enter together five minutes after Dean, who waves them down from his booth. They declare that they're done with the most important shopping now, and decide to call it a day after lunch. 

Then comes the traditional arguing of toppings on the large shared pizza. Dean negotiates for pepperoni in exchange for Sam's green peppers. Sam agrees to a side of garlic knots as long as Dean calls off the olives. John doesn't care at all as long as there are no pineapples on it. It's delivered to their table still bubbling, and Dean's convinced it's the best pizza he's ever had. It's worth the travel time just for this. He tells the server so when the guy brings their check. They order sodas to go, heft their purchases, and make their way home, arriving just before dark. 

"Can't believe it gets dark here at 5:00," John comments, pulling his bags out of the trunk.

Dean takes his share and also grabs the rolls of wrapping paper and scotch tape. "That's what happens this far east."

"Makes the jet lag worse."

"You sure you're not just getting old?" Sam asks.

John shoves him out of the way with a grumble to go hide his gifts in his bedroom. Sam and Dean both do the same then meet back in the kitchen for celebratory beers.

Dean divvies up the wrapping paper, tape and scissors. "How about I start some chili while you guys wrap your gifts? We still got some of the thawed venison left?"

"Tons," John answers. "You've got a whole damn deer in that deep freezer."

"Garth took it down at the end of hunting season," Dean answers while he pulls out the rest of the ingredients and his mom's recipe box.

John notices and gestures to it with his bottle. "I'd wondered if you'd kept that. Your mom had the best chili recipe in the world."

Sam sets his wrapping paper aside and sits at that table, watching his brother consult the recipe and gather everything. The amount of ingredients necessary take up nearly the entire counter. "I remember you making this all the time for Superbowl parties. With that cheese sauce stuff."

"And the seven layer dip," John adds.

Dean pipes up. "And the vegetable dip."

His dad and his brother stare at him, shocked. Sam shakes his head in disbelief. " _That's_ your favorite thing about the party food? Aren't you pretending to be allergic to vegetables?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "That was the only time I loved eating them. That dip was insane. What did you make it with?"

John kicks his feet up on the spare chair across from him. "The original recipe your mom made was a sour cream base. I used Greek yogurt."

"So good," Dean moans.

"Let's make some," Sam smiles. "We could all use some vegetables after the past few days."

"I don't have the recipe," Dean laments.

"I lost it," John admits. "I made it that last Superbowl when you were graduating, Dean, and I put it down somewhere, and never found it again. I'm sure I could remember how to make it if I tried, though."

"I'll get the stuff on my next run to the grocery store," Dean says. "Okay, I need to cook now. Get lost."

John and Sam vacate to the spare rooms and Dean busies himself loading up his large soup pot with ground beef, venison, spices, kidney beans, tomatoes, red wine, all carefully measured. Dean's spent years attempting to recreate his mother's best recipes exactly as she'd made them, and though he can't remember what they all tasted like after all these years, he knows when he gets them sort of wrong. The chili recipe is one of his strongest showings. His dad had copied it well, but Dean thinks he's mastered it as his mother made, with all the small tweaks she never wrote down. It takes a couple of hours to simmer, so once he's finished with the initial cooking, he cleans up the mess he's made and retreats to his own room to fill the stockings and wrap the gifts for Castiel and Claire, shoving them all into the closet. He doesn't want to raise any suspicions by putting the extra gifts under the tree. Maybe Sam won't cause a scene if Dean quietly asks him to give them to Gabriel to give them to Castiel. Which sounds pretty damn middle school when he thinks about it. Whatever. He'll deal with it later.

It's starting to look like a typical Winchester family Christmas under the tree by the time the chili is ready to be served. Sam and Dean wrap presents pretty serviceably. Little bit of wrinkled paper and too much tape, but they look good enough. John's look like he went to war with a roll of wrapping paper and lost. He's so bad at it that one year he'd paid Sam to wrap all the gifts that weren't for him. He never heard the end of it.

The chili's great, the tree looks awesome, and there's an old Western on one of the network channels. It's a perfect evening. Too bad Dean has one more day off of work.

xxXXxx

If possible, the winter festival is even more charming than the fall festival. Castiel is so glad to live in a town that enjoys community events so much. And the public park has been turned into a winter wonderland. Not that it's needed much help in the last few weeks. It's snowed regularly since right after Halloween, and the colder than average temperatures have frozen the lake earlier than usual for ice skating.

Naturally Claire is in Heaven with the candy, carnival games, candy, snow village, candy, and watching her family members embarrass themselves skating from the safety of the benches set up all around the perimeter of the lake. Castiel wishes he knew how to skate at all. His mom and dad can stay upright at least. Anna and Michael are clinging to each other for dear life and spending more time on their butts than their feet. Gabriel is also on the sidelines, chucking snowballs at his siblings every time they fall while Castiel helps Claire build a tiny snowman on the bench seat beside them.

Sunset comes early with gusts of wind promising more snow overnight, and Castiel is contemplating getting Claire home and warm. The rest of the family is done with skating and putting on their boots when Gabriel stands up and waves towards the cider stand. Squinting, Castiel can make out Sam Winchester and his father. He ignores the lurch in his heart when he doesn't see Dean with them. But it's only for a moment. Dean appears from behind a huddled group on the ice, skating towards his family with fluid grace. Almost like a hockey player. Castiel is struck by it. Of course Dean is a good skater. 

Dean slides to a stop and grabs his brother's arm for his help heaving himself into the snow. "It's fucking freezing out here!" he grins.

"That's why we're on the way to the bonfire," Sam answers. He lets Dean brace against his shoulder as he pulls off his skates while still standing and slips into his boots. He's red faced from the cold wind and his hair is a mess. And he's laughing. And then he sees Castiel. It hurts to witness how fast Dean's joy evaporates when he catches sight of them. But he still follows Sam and John as they approach, skates slung casually over his shoulder.

Gabriel greets them and John shakes hands with Cain and Naomi. Naomi politely asks if they're going to the bonfire. Sam and John answer in the affirmative. Castiel and Dean stare at each other. All three parents watch the son who is not theirs watch the son who is.

Gabriel breaks the awkward, curious silence. "I'm Gabriel Novak and I'm interested in pursuing a formal dating relationship with the eventual intent to marry your son, Sam Winchester," he announces loudly to John. 

Mouths drop open all around and Gabriel drags Sam tightly to his side. Sam's so red he looks like he has sunburn. "Sure," he says weakly.

There's a sudden explosion of everyone talking over everyone else. Dean can make out his father saying, "wait a minute, what's going on?" And Claire repeating, "Gay! Gay!" And Cain saying, "maybe we should all get some honey tea and talk." He sweeps Claire up in his arms and he gives Castiel a pointed look. Of course he sees through the diversion.

A hand touches Castiel's arm and he starts. He glances over to see Dean right beside him. "Cas."

It's definitely time to have a talk. Castiel points towards the copse of dormant cherry trees away from the crowds with a bench underneath. "May I have a moment of your time?"

Dean appears torn between the sudden turn of events with Sam and Gabriel, but he supposes that he'll hear all about it later. They probably won't get such an easy chance to talk to alone without prying eyes for some time. It occurs to him that Gabriel probably planned it this way. Hopefully he wasn't just playing Sam.

Dean shrugs. "Yeah." He follows Castiel to the bench and they both sit with a foot of space between them, watching the ice skaters on the lake.

There's movement all around them at a distance, noise, general pleasantness, but no one disturbs the pair of them. And the silence is that much more noticeable. 

"I asked to speak with you, but I don't even know what to say," Castiel says with a self-deprecating laugh.

The confession loosens Dean's shoulders. "Me, either. I'm afraid to apologize to you."

Castiel faces him. "I'm so sorry, Dean," he says sincerely. "My behavior has been completely inappropriate. I find that I'm not exactly myself around you."

"Same," Dean admits. "We've both been..." he looks like he's searching for words and then gives up.

Castiel nods, though. "I agree." He understands. Completely.

There's another long pause. Dean sighs. "Can we salvage this... _thing_?" He gestures between them. "I don't wanna be enemies with you."

Castiel lets out a huge, relieved breath. "I feel the same way."

Dean can't keep looking directly at Castiel anymore. His gaze falls to his hands and he fidgets. "So, like... what are we gonna do? What's the protocol for where we're at?"

"I have no idea," Castiel murmurs. He's also looking down and curling the fringe of his scarf around his fingers. He'd thought he was braver than this.

Their relationship, or whatever it is, is going to move slower than molasses in winter if one of them doesn't say something, so Dean takes one for the team. "I wanna go on a date with you," he offers.

The confession startles Castiel in a good way. He can feel his lips pulling up into a small, shy smile. "Okay," he answers softly.

"We can keep it simple," Dean continues. "Since we did it all ass backwards before."

Oh? "Did you have something in mind?"

Dean leans back on his hands. "How about ice skating?"

Castiel laughs. "You'll be very disappointed and I'll be very bruised."

"Sounds like fun."

How is Dean able to make everything so impossibly easy? Does he always forgive this generously? That would be a blessing he doesn't know that he's earned. "I really am sorry. I mean it, Dean. I should have been honest with you a long time ago. But, I'm not very brave."

"I'm not, either," Dean admits. "I've been too far up my own ass lately that I only thought about what I wanted. Trouble is, I didn't know what it was. I've been screwed up with moving on or not moving on. There isn't a guidebook for this sort of thing, is there?"

Castiel's chest pulses with warmth. Dean's knows exactly what he's going through. They're in it at the same time, in the same place. Maybe they can help each other. Starting small. Castiel takes a chance and places his gloved hand over Dean's. Without looking at him, Dean sits back up and folds their hands together. "There isn't," he says. "And if you're not ready, then you're not, and I understand that."

Dean shoots him a glance. "Are you?"

He meets Dean's eyes, unwavering. "I'm not sure. But I truly believe that we can try. Dean, I'm not ready to mate or bond anyone yet. And neither are you. But we can help each other. I think it would be foolish to turn away from what we could potentially have. As long as we're smart about it."

"Smarter about it than we have been."

Castiel chuckles. "Yes. If we communicate well, we'll be fine. Would you like to try with me?"

Dean's smile is the summer sun in the dead of winter. "Yeah, Cas. I would."

The cold barely touches either of them after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing has to slow down for a few days, but I promise to still update often! Thank you so much for continuing to read a WIP and comment! I appreciate every word!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel have their first date.

Dean's shift starts at 9:00 AM. The clinic opens at 7:30. Therefore, there's only one logical thing to do. He stops by the cafe and gets two strong brews to go. And with much more bluster than he feels, Dean walks to the clinic and shoulders open the door.

Castiel himself is at the front desk, typing on the computer. He glances up. Double takes. Stares in that squinty-confused way that Dean finds really fucking attractive. "Good morning, Dean. Is something wrong?"

"Yes," Dean says gravely, which makes Castiel's face pinch even more. Dean holds out one cup. "I've never brought you coffee before. It's important when you've agreed to date."

It's amazing to watch the confusion morph to happy to embarrassed to happily embarrassed. He reaches out and Dean takes pains to make sure that their fingers touch when he hands off the coffee. He steps as close to the reception desk as he can.

Wow. Happy Castiel smells incredible. It's a totally new experience from every other meeting they've had. He's scented pain, worry, anger, arousal, _angry_ arousal, fear. But never this sort of anticipation. It's sweet wet leaves and cleansing rains. Dean scents the air and unexpectedly puts together the complementary smells of Castiel and Claire. She smells like spring and new life. Her father smells like the calming rains and forests that encourage it to grow. What a freaking amazing pair they are.

He doesn't even realize that he's smiling a bit dazed until Castiel says, "what's with that look?"

"You smell so good," Dean replies automatically.

The rolling chair squeaks when Castiel backs it up a few paces. "The last time you said that-"

Instead of being offended, Dean laughs. "I'm not coming on to you that way, I promise. It's like... I've been wondering why you and Claire smelled so different, but you actually don't. I've just never smelled you all normal and stuff."

A startled laugh bursts out of Castiel. "I suppose that's true? I pride myself on being quite even-tempered, though I guess you'll find that hard to believe."

Dean shrugs and hops up onto the reception desk, legs dangling. Castiel scoots closer again after a moment, just enough to the side to be in his line of vision. "I believe it," Dean says casually. "I've seen you in a few bad situations lately, and you handled them better than most people."

Castiel smiles in a way that makes Dean wish they'd already been on a few dates already so that he could kiss him. "Thank you, Dean." Dean grins at him. He can't stop himself, and Castiel adds like an afterthought, "you smell good, too."

Is this really happening? Is he actually having a civilized conversation with light flirting on top? With Castiel? For real? Thanks for the meal, Dean's digging in. "What do I smell like to you?"

"That's a very personal question," Castiel answers with an imperious sniff.

It only makes Dean grin wider. "I've touched your dick."

"Huh." Castiel appears thoughtful. "You're right. In that context it's stupid I wouldn't tell you." His arresting blue eyes rake over Dean briefly and then he's grinning, too; a wide gummy smile that socks Dean straight in the gut. "To me, you smell like a wood burning fireplace and cloves."

Delighted, Dean laughs again. "I smell like Christmas!"

Castiel shrugs "Or winter. It's quite nice. There are a lot of other scents mixed in, but those two are how I can pick you out of crowd."

"Aside from my rakish good looks?"

"Aside from those, yes."

Dean gives him an obvious once over just to make him squirm. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

The sparkle in Castiel's eyes belies his feigned ignorance. "About my rakish good looks? No, I think I'm more classically handsome."

Dean reaches out and knuckles Castiel on the shoulder. "Your scent, you asshole."

Castiel leans back in his chair. "Well, you said I smell like Claire, and to me she smells like flowers after the spring rain."

Dean taps his nose in assent. "I think so, too. But _you_ smell like the rain itself. And pine trees. Stormy when I piss you off."

"That's very poetic," Castiel teases, though his face looks a little redder than normal. 

It's just slightly to the side of being too much to resist, so Dean takes Castiel's hand and raises his inner wrist to his nose. It's an intimate gesture, and any other time he'd expect a slap to the face since they haven't even been on a single date yet, but the whole dick touching thing makes him bold. His heartbeat picks up with a small rush of adrenaline, and he can feel Castiel's also throbbing under his fingers. Even if he does get hit, it's worth it for a real, undiluted smell of happy, nervous Castiel. He was right before; there are a _ton_ of undercurrent scents that he wants to chase. Some that remind him of lazy afternoons or warm evenings curled together. Fuck, it's spectacular.

"Dean," Castiel says breathlessly. 

He's snapped out of his reverie to realize that his lips are touching Castiel's pulse point. Not kissing exactly. Just resting against the soft skin. Oh, man. He releases Castiel's hand, flushed just as red as the other alpha. That was... wow. That's not something people in this stage of a relationship would do. _Nice job overstepping less than a day after you said you wouldn't, dipshit._

But Castiel shocks him further when he turns his hand over, grabs Dean's, and scents him the same way. And Dean watches, transfixed. Castiel's eyes slip closed and he breathes in deeply, holds it, and releases it with a contented hum. The puff of breath on his arm sends goosebumps racing over Dean's skin. "You do actually smell a bit like Christmas, minus the tree. It makes me want to sit by the fire and drink spiced tea." 

They're smiling at each other, holding hands, and Dean's just a teeny, tiny bit turned on. But it's not the frustrating kind of arousal. It's the kind that buzzes through his body with more excitement than desire. Wanting more, but just to have it, not to push it.

"Wooooooow," a voice says from behind them.

Castiel whips around so quickly that he almost overturns the rolling chair, and Dean jumps down from the desk. Meg and Pamela look like they just won the lottery.

"I am loving every second of this," Pamela drawls.

"Didn't I tell you?" Meg smirks. "Dean is _totally_ the type to love getting thrown around a little! One good punch to the face and he's a goner for life."

"You jealous?" is the only comeback that Dean can think of on such short notice.

"Ew, no," Meg scoffs. She loops her arm through Pamela's. "Boys are gross."

"Sometimes," Pamela corrects.

"Sometimes," Meg agrees. 

Castiel comes out from behind the desk, clearly done with his staff's teasing. He takes Dean by the arm and leads him out the door and away from the windows, though Dean's pretty sure those two will still spy on them. "I apologize for my employees."

Dean chuckles. "It's all good. They raise people wrong up here. They aren't corn fed Kansas charmed like we are."

They're holding hands again. Dean could really get used to this. "Thank you for the coffee."

"Any time."

Castiel kisses him like it's his first time. It's quick, right to the corner of his cheek. It's also overwhelmingly superb. It's good he did it that way. Straight on the mouth would have probably been too much to stand because Dean knows _exactly_ how well Castiel can drive him crazy with that sinful mouth. He's so lost just by the simple touch that he barely has time to say goodbye before Castiel is walking back into the clinic. 

Dean is stunned. That went so well! He's just entering the ranger station early when he realizes that he never got Castiel's number. Dammit. Oh, well. He'll just have to go back later. Such a shame.

An hour later he digs in his pocket for spare change at the vending machine and pulls out a crinkled sticky note. Castiel's phone number is scrawled on it in messy doctor writing. He really does think of everything.

xxXXxx

_Unknown:_ You're a pretty awesome pickpocket, Cas. Found your number, but I'm missing 2 quarters.

Castiel is sort of surprised to see that Dean texts in complete sentences. He doesn't know why he thought he wouldn't. But it's a little strange that he does. 

_Me:_ You'll never get my confession.

 _Dean:_ I sort of just did. Seriously, how did you get that in my pocket without me noticing?

 _Me:_ A pro never reveals his tricks.

 _Dean:_ But it's bothering me! I've been thinking about it all day!

 _Me:_ I'm sorry, Dean. I simply have very nimble fingers.

 _Dean:_ That's... really suggestive, Cas.

 _Me:_ It was meant to be.

 _Dean:_ Jfc I can't handle you. Got to patrol. Talk later.

Just imagining Dean flushing at the texts makes Castiel smile for the rest of the day. He honestly didn't know how to answer the question, anyway. He'd put the note in Dean's pocket and hadn't thought it had gone unnoticed. He's glad it gave him the opportunity to try flirting. He's been rusty at it for about a decade, that he can count. Even Amelia said that he sucked at it, but it seems to work just fine on Dean. It certainly _felt_ good to do.

With such a light heart, it's easy to ignore Meg and Pamela trying to bait him into more information than he's ready to give at every turn. He dodges them throughout the day, but it's easier said than done when Dean shows up at lunch with his favorite pimento cheese sandwich and tomato basil soup from the deli. How did Dean even know that? Pamela and Meg will have a field day later with it.

They have a completely normal conversation about their days so far, and it's lovely, tucked into Castiel's office, door shut, without prying eyes.

"How's Claire doing?" Dean asks when they're finished eating and enjoying the last of their break time. 

"She's terrific," Castiel answers, standing up to throw away the food containers. "She's enjoying being the center of attention. Now that my family's in town, I think I see her even less, if that's possible."

"It's possible," Dean confirms. "We live really far away from our respective families. It makes sense that they'll want to take all the time they can get with Claire. She's awesome."

Dean's good-natured confession makes him tingle all over. He turns slowly with a smile. "Do you really think that? About Claire, I mean."

Dean stands and stretches. "Sure, I do. She's a great kid. A little on the dangerously ballsy side, but you're raising her good."

 _You really shouldn't say things like that so easily_. "Thank you, Dean," he says.

Dean steps into his orbit and takes both of his hands. "No problem. Hey. I gotta go back to work now." He sounds disappointed.

No, Castiel doesn't want that to happen at all. He shifts his weight and rests his forehead against Dean's shoulder. He's the perfect height for it. Dean tenses, but Castiel knows he didn't go too far. He slips his arm's around the ranger's waist and waits. Dean's body relaxes with every breath he takes. His heart's beating faster, but not frantic. Castiel enjoys feeling it. "Do you have to?"

Dean's quiet chuckle rumbles against him. Teasingly, he says, "I won't spoil you like Claire. But, sure. Let's skip work. What would you like to do?"

"Ice skating."

Laughing, Dean slides his hands along Castiel's shoulders to stroke his face briefly as he pulls back and lightly grips his arms. "Didn't you already say you'd just be cramping my style?"

"Yes. I'd enjoy that."

"Me, too." They smile at each other. Castiel can't stop himself from staring and trying to take in every single detail of the man's face. He's looked at Dean close up before, but never been able to put together all the details. Especially the light dotting of freckles along his cheeks. And the gold flecks in his green eyes framed by laugh lines. And the bowed curve of his upper lip. And his straight white teeth. He could look at Dean Winchester forever. Dean shakes his arms. "Ground Control to Major Tom."

Frowning, Castiel says, "you make me want to play hooky. I've never done that in my life."

"You're welcome," Dean answers smugly. "I'd say the same for you, but I play hooky all the time, so I don't think it would have the same impact."

With a snort, Castiel agrees, "it would not."

"Well, how about the promise of a reward to motivate you? I'll take you on a date. Any day. Any time as long as you're not working."

"Tonight," he answers immediately. "My mother and Anna are having a girl's night with Claire."

"Thought you'd say that. Let's do it. You closing the clinic tonight?"

"No, I'm off at four."

"Perfect. Should I pick you up here? You got casual clothes to change into? Warm coat? Not that old school private eye trench coat."

Castiel absently plucks at the shield on Dean's shirt. The green and brown uniform looks so damn good on him. It's criminal. "I have a few changes of clothes in my locker. Will we be outside?"

Dean stands back and spreads his arms wide. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Ah, there's a chink the armor. Castiel doesn't hate the outdoors by any means, but he hopes that Dean doesn't want to turn camping into actual vacations regularly or anything. "I understand," he says gravely. "I'll be ready."

Dean grins. "Dude, it's not torture, I promise. It'll be great."

"I trust you."

"Good. See you then."

They don't kiss, which is disappointing, and also exciting. Castiel feels like he's back in high school again right before his first date ever. All though, he's not the one planning it this time. All he has to do is be nervous. Which he is. The final three hours of work are the longest he's suffered in recent memory.

xxXXxx

Both Dean and Castiel are into the classics as far as dates are concerned. Though, curiously, Dean is still in his uniform and driving the station's jeep when he gets back to the clinic right before sundown. Castiel eyes him suspiciously.

"Are you skipping work?" he asks, pulling on his winter coat, gloves, knitted hat, and scarf.

"Not really," Dean answers. "I've got a plan." He holds open the jeep's passenger door. 

Once they're settled in the car, Castiel says, "you're taking me on a date to your _job_?"

Dean holds up a hand in a stopping motion. "First of all, anything we do outside of the town proper for miles is technically my office. Second of all, you're seriously gonna like this. I swear. Have a little faith, okay?"

Ribbing Dean is entertaining. "Are you sure you're not trying to kill two birds with one stone?"

Dean snickers at the dig. It has no heat coming from Castiel. "You won't care about my motives soon enough." He throws the jeep into gear and they're driving towards the hiking trails right as the sun starts to dip lower on the horizon. It's bright, but Castiel thinks it's beautiful filtering through the trees and into the picturesque town. 

"This brings back memories," Castiel muses, gazing out the window as Dean turns off the paved roads to the access trails meant for authorized personnel only. His confidence at navigating the rocky paths puts Castiel at ease. He's healed completely now, but still uneasy about venturing into the forest after dark. 

"How's your foot?" Dean asks, peeking over. "I probably should have asked before."

"It's completely healed," Castiel assures him. "Where are we going?" Another few minutes over the bumpy terrain and suddenly the jeep is breaking through the treeline. Dean hits the breaks and puts the jeep into park.

Castiel stares through the windshield in wonder. "Your office has an incredible view," he says.

Dean leans back in his seat proudly. "I know, right?"

It's beyond words. The scene before them is better than any postcard either of them have ever seen. It takes a moment, but Castiel realizes that this is the lake he'd been photographing the day of his hiking accident. They'd approached it from the other side so that they'd driven towards the valley, rather than up the mountain, stopping near one of the public docks. The sun is setting just above the mountain, painting the mixture of deciduous and evergreen trees, frozen lake, and snow banks in brilliant purples and pinks. The light hits the snow and ice in just the right way to make it sparkle without being blinding. Castiel can't stop looking at the gorgeous scene. He wishes he had a better camera than the one on his cell phone. He doesn't even look over when he hears Dean rustling around over his shoulder in the back seat.

But he does glance away when Dean offers out a plastic mug filled with, "apple cider?"

"Yeah. Local. From the orchard."

Castiel smiles and takes it. Dean pours himself his own mug. "It's beautiful here. Thank you for bringing me."

"It ain't over yet," Dean winks. He nods over his shoulder. Castiel turns to see two pairs of ice skates in the backseat. One of them is obviously Dean's. They're well-worn and look like hockey skates. The other pair looks brand new; the white leather stiff and pristine.

"I'm not so sure about this," Castiel says doubtfully.

But Dean gives him an encouraging nudge. "I'll help you stay on your feet. You said ice skating, and the idea stuck. Plus, this is the romance package date. No one but us out here since the lake won't open for skating to the public until after the New Year."

"Is it safe?" He sort of wishes it won't be.

"Totally," Dean assures him. "Part of my job is testing the ice. We've had freezing weather a little earlier than normal this year, so I've been setting everything up ahead of schedule. It's pretty cool, actually." He points down towards the dock. "We set up folding benches, a fire pit, even a skate rental tent. I've been putting up lights all around and roped off the deeper water that probably won't freeze enough to carry much weight until February. But it's totally safe now. I wouldn't take us on a dangerous date. Yet."

Castiel laughs. "Well, since you went to all this trouble..."

"That's the spirit!"

They sip their cider for a few minutes until the sun disappears behind the mountain and darkness descends into the valley.

"I'll never get used to darkness at five in the evening," Castiel murmurs.

Dean shrugs. "Me, either. I'm gonna go turn on the lights. Wait here." He hops out of the jeep and jogs down the trail. Castiel watches him go to each generator and power them up, sodium lights blinking on in a half moon around a small portion of the lake. Then Dean's back in a rush of cold air, grinning with excitement, and grabbing his skates out of the back seat. "Come on. I've got some chairs down at the dock where we can put these on."

Reluctantly, Castiel steps out of the jeep. The only reason he's agreeing to this is because Dean looks so damn pleased with himself. Plus, as far as romantic plots go, this one is excellent. He'll definitely fall on his ass a lot with or without Dean's assistance, but there's no time like the present to learn. Ice skating is a popular pastime in the winter here, and he feels like he'll be missing out if he doesn't at least attempt to learn.

Dean waits by the dock, strapping on his skates, and really hoping that he's made the right decision here. He knows that taking Castiel to work with him on a first date isn't the best way to shine, but he figures he can make up the lost points easily enough with how awesome it is out here. And Castiel is playing ball. He approaches and sits down on the folding chair. Holds out his skates and pokes at Dean's knee with his toe to spur him into action. Dean happily complies and helps Castiel into his skates.

"Ready?"

Castiel wobbles to his feet. He reaches for Dean's arm and holds on tightly. He can't even walk on normal ground in these things. How in the hell is he going to do anything besides die on the ice? He stares up seriously into Dean's green eyes. "Do not let me die."

He laughs. "We'll take it slow." He back-steps, carefully guiding Castiel with him, shaky step, by shaky step to the lake. "You're doing great," he grins.

"Fuck you," Castiel says with feeling.

Dean only laughs harder and edges to the end of the dock, pushing off confidently, but not dragging Castiel with him yet. He stops, allowing the other alpha to gather his courage. Castiel stares at his feet. Then at the ice. Then at Dean. "I got you, Cas," he says with complete conviction. "I got you."

He really fucking does, doesn't he? Castiel draws in a deep breath and takes a small step onto the ice. 

He promptly slips and busts his ass. "Goddammit!" he yells.

Still on his feet, Dean doubles over, hands on his knees, howling with laughter. He tries to apologize in between gasping breaths, but he can't stop quickly enough for Castiel's taste. 

Castiel considers kicking him with his skates. But he refrains because he's a doctor and doesn't want to have to waste the rest of his evening sewing up Dean's wounds. "You said you'd have me!" Castiel growls.

"Man, I'm sorry, but I thought you'd be able to at least get _on_ the ice."

"Your faith in me is astounding, but I warned you."

"You did, Cas. You did. Here." He holds out his hand. Castiel slaps their palms together. "For real this time. I'm ready. I got you." He spreads his legs wider and carefully heaves Castiel to his feet. True to his word, he gets Castiel up and steady enough for Castiel to lessen his death grip to a more normal terrified grip. This is thrilling. "How you doing now?"

"Take me out there," Castiel says, voice as shaky as his legs. "Let's skate."

"You're amazing, Cas," Dean beams. He sounds legitimately proud. That makes Castiel less hostile. Dean pushes off with his left foot, smoothly gliding backwards and taking Castiel with him. "Keep your feet close. Weight centered."

"Holy shit," Castiel breathes. But he does as he's told. It's hard since the ice isn't completely even, but he does his best to keep his feet closer together when they attempt to slide apart.

"Head up. Don't slouch."

He straightens his spine. Dean looks like he's never been more at ease. It sets off a competitive edge in Castiel. He can do this without embarrassing himself. Dean's eyes are steady on him and he's caught by them. He grips the man's hands tighter.

"Don't look away," Dean urges softly.

 _I can't_. "I won't." Gradually, he realizes that he's skating. He's _skating_. Dean's helping him skate! "I'm skating!"

"Knew you could," Dean says happily. "You froze like a cat in socks for a second there, but now you're doing fine. Easy, right?" His heart swells seeing Castiel enjoying himself even though he'd been ambivalent before. This is the best first date ever.

"You have a lot of faith in me," Castiel says.

"Duh. You can do anything. S'the kind of person you are."

Castiel wobbles again, but catches himself, though he can't stop his forward momentum completely, and stumbles into Dean's chest. The other alpha doesn't seem to mind, keeping up the rhythmic right and left pushes, and keeping Castiel's feet under him. It's wonderful. "I think my pheromones are affecting you too much," Castiel notes, nostrils flaring to scent him.

"Because of belief that you're perfect? Maybe. Don't care."

Castiel doesn't either. Dean can say anything he wants and Castiel will believe it at this point in time. It's so cliche that it's beyond perfect. "You were right about this," he says. "This is the best date that I can remember."

"Gotta live wide," Dean says breezily, bumping Castiel's chest to separate them and letting Castiel direct himself a little, but still close enough to catch him in an instant.

The words strike Castiel deeply. His mother had said that to him after Amelia died. He hadn't known what she'd meant back then, and certainly hadn't cared. He knows now. He just _knows_. When Dean says it, Castiel understands. Get out there. Take chances. Be open. They can do that together. Small things lead to big things, and these small, shaky steps, feel a lot like they'll get bigger, and more steady.

Until then, they skate for nearly an hour. Castiel is getting the hang of it. Dean is able to release his hand every now and then. It's amazing. He can see why people like this. It's almost like flying.

But it's also incredibly cold after a while. Castiel sneezes and Dean calls it a wrap. Castiel's even a little sorry about that, but his legs are getting sore as he plops down on the chair again to remove his skates. "Can I buy you dinner to warm you up?"

He would really fucking love that, except, "gotta get a rain check. I'm due back at the station. Next time?"

"Yes," Castiel smiles.

Dean turns off the lights around the lake. The drive back to town is quiet and comfortable. Castiel rests his chin in his hand, gazing out the window again. It's pitch black outside, but it doesn't scare him. He catches glimpses of the forest as the jeep's headlights flash around turns, but mostly he's watching Dean's reflection in the window. He can see him in the dim cab light from the dash, and every so often the ranger steals glances at him, making them both smile.

Breaking the silence seems like a real waste, so Dean doesn't turn on the radio, and he doesn't say anything. He glances over to Castiel periodically, enjoying seeing him there in the passenger seat both looking and smelling completely content. Idly, he imagines what it would be like to go on some rambling road trip with Castiel sitting beside him, just like he'd done with Sam once upon a time. It's really damn appealing.

It's also too short of a drive. Before he wants to, Dean is pulling back into the alley behind the clinic to let Castiel out to his own car. 

Dean doesn't want to ruin the perfect evening, so he doesn't tempt himself. He stays buckled into his seat when Castiel opens the passenger door. "Have a good night, Cas," he says.

Castiel's eyes flick down to his lips and then back up. It's promising. "Good night, Dean. Be careful at work." He slides out of the car, closes the door, and waits to get into his own car until the jeep is out of sight.

 _That_ , they both think, _was a really good beginning_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to do nothing but knit and write this weekend! Also, thank you all for catching all the typos in the last chapter. I couldn't do this without all you eagle-eyed readers! <3 I also feel the need to apologize for being the one person in the world who writes a/b/o with like, no sex in 13 chapters. I'll make it up to you, I promise!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel have a lovely, private Christmas Eve together.

Dating is... really something else. By some unspoken agreement, they decide to be as cheesy as possible, while also exploring the town and surrounding area as much as possible. Of course, there's limited time before Christmas, and they can only sneak in three lunch dates before they're drowning in family obligations. However, those lunch dates are met with strolling in the park, fondue during a long lunch that neither of their coworkers question, and an old photo booth gathering dust at the local movie theater. 

Dean feels worse for Castiel since his family has decided that family dinner parties and outings are the way to go. Must be exhausting having almost no time to relax at home. Dean's pretty thankful that his dad and Sam are content going between their houses and kicking back with beers and cable TV. No more work until after their father leaves.

But they do find time to meet after the late Mass on Christmas Eve. Dean because Sam and John are in Christmas feast food comas, and Castiel because he's fulfilled his duty, and everyone else wants to go to bed early since Gabriel's threatening to wake them all up at the crack of dawn for breakfast and presents. He and Claire have been feeding off of each other for days now, both edging towards intolerable in their endless enthusiasm.

So Castiel shows up at Dean cabin after Claire has gone to bed. It might be a dangerous call knowing their history of how they get when even marginally alone together, but it's Christmas and he's willing to take the chance. 

For his part, Dean spends the evening pacing from room to room making sure that everything is orderly. His normal brain wants Castiel to be impressed. His hindbrain wants Castiel to sense a home. Fucking great, he's nesting. With a noise of disgust he shoves his hands in his pockets and wills himself to sit down on the couch. Then he stands back up. Changing his sweater wouldn't hurt. Castiel seems to like it when he wears red. After that, he has to tell himself to stop fussing. Mostly because the doorbell rings. 

Castiel is bathed in the porch lights, smiling and holding a few brightly wrapped boxes in his hands. When Dean gestures him inside, Castiel steps over the threshold, bringing the bite of chilled air tinged with happiness. Dean breathes it deeply before leading the other alpha into the living room. There's a fire in the fireplace, instrumental Christmas music on so low that it can barely be heard, but it's still a good atmosphere.

Dean has been sitting on the floor in front of the fire, so Castiel kicks off his shoes and joins him, setting the gift boxes down beside him. "Are you sure your family is fine with this?"

Dean grins, reaching out to unwind Castiel's scarf and pull his knitted hat off. "Yeah, they're fine. Sam's so excited that we're doing date-y things that I thought he'd pee on the rug or something."

Castiel laughs. "Your brother seems like the type to want everyone to be happy when he is."

"Don't get me wrong, I _like_ that about him." Next he tugs the sleeves of Castiel's coat and takes the bundle of outerwear and tosses it out of the way onto the couch. "How did _you_ manage to sneak out?"

"Easy," he smiles. "I told Gabriel I was going to get laid and he said he'd hold the rest of the family off for a few hours."

Dean chuckles. "That sounds like Gabe, all right. Guess he's okay with all of this now?"

Castiel leans back on his hands, turning his face to the fire. "He's protective, but he trusts me after what I've been through. Truthfully, he wanted to paint you as the villain, but I was just as much to blame for what had happened before. Big brothers just don't want to hear that sort of thing."

Dean smiles wryly. "I know that firsthand. I think I would have been the same if I'd been going to bat for Sam."

"You do understand," Castiel says. Then he's smiling at Dean and letting it make him giddy. He doesn't know how he got so lucky as to be able to stare at Dean Winchester as much as he wants, but here they are. Dean's gorgeous in every lighting, even more striking in the firelight because it's always changing.

And here in his home, he smells... well, like he's been nesting, frankly. It makes Castiel's nose twitch with interest and he surreptitiously glances over his shoulder. He's not sure how good of a housekeeper Dean is in normal times, but it's definitely very clean right now. He's not sure how he _should_ feel about that, but his involuntary reaction is to be touched. It's nice to be wanted. And the strong alpha smell amazes him. It makes everything feel darker; more comfortable. Almost like he's in a well-protected den. 

He never knew that it could feel so natural to be with another alpha, but it does. He tries to parse the feeling out while Dean digs under the tree for his gifts. It's... strange. On an average day, alphas are just like anyone else. It's during their breeding cycles or around potential mates where their hormones can make them particularly edgy and aggressive. In most of the breeding age population, omegas generally counteract that quite well. Their hormones are far more calming and comforting. They help complete the alpha's nesting instinct by making it a home. Soothing the aggressiveness.

And while Castiel knows the science behind many alpha/alpha and omega/omega bonds, he still finds it surprising to be craving one. He and Dean have both reached the peak of breeding age. Gradually over the next ten to fifteen years, their alpha hormones will fade to middle age. Ruts will decrease and then stop. Sterility will set in. As the mating imperative becomes less intense, their bodies become less discriminating of secondary gender. Though, a respectable portion of the breeding population doesn't procreate thanks to same-primary gender relationships, relationships with betas, or other combinations thereof, alpha/alpha couples are still quite rare in the grand scheme of things. And Castiel has never encountered a person like Dean, who has the potential for two alpha/alpha bonds.

Castiel doesn't necessarily put too much stock in the antiquated belief system that older people or those with broken first bonds are more likely to bond with someone who they cannot breed with, but modern studies have shown a lot of anecdotal evidence that it might actually be a real thing. He's definitely posed to be anecdotal evidence himself if he decides to take a leap.

And that's fine with him. He likes that small spark of challenging electricity in the air whenever he's around Dean. Despite being ill-advised, he loves the memory of their intimate moment in his office weeks ago. The circumstances had been wrong, but the _action_... wow. He needs to back-burner that before Dean sniffs him out and gets the wrong idea.

"I've got stuff for you and Claire," Dean says, breaking Castiel's daydream.

He raises his eyebrows. "Really? You didn't have to do that."

"'Course I did," Dean argues. "You and her and a package deal." He swings back around and shoves several packages forward.

Again with the casual affection for his daughter. It's one of his most attractive personality traits. He knows his staring is making Dean uncomfortable, but he can't seem to stop. 

Dean rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I mean... you know." Shit, he feels like a pimply teenager again. "Just open 'em," he mumbles. 

Carefully, Castiel puts aside the ones marked for Claire, gathering his own in his lap. Dean instructs him to open the smaller packages first, so he does. It doesn't take him long to start laughing. "Bees!" he crows. "How did you know?"

Dean is ping-ponging between pleased and embarrassed. "Your Halloween costume, man. The scrubs with all the bees on them."

"I wore them a lot years ago," Castiel says as he holds the pen up and shakes it to make the bee on top wiggle. 

Dean senses a small whiff of sadness. He can hear it in the other alpha's voice a little, and only gets the impression of it in his scent before it's gone. "Got you a real gift, though." Thanks to one day shipping. He nudges the last package towards Castiel.

Castiel opens wrapping paper with all the precision of a surgeon. He opens the inner box and breathes, "wow." Almost like he's afraid to touch it, Castiel lifts the hand-tooled leather case out and turns it over in his hand. Dean's pretty proud to have thought of it, actually. The idea had come from a less than awesome encounter with Castiel, but the symbolism is pretty damn good, if he does say so himself.

"Thought you would appreciate a useful gift," Dean explains. "And I noticed you didn't have anything to put your prescription pad in, so..."

Castiel's eyes twinkle with mischief when he glances up. "You noticed that, did you?" He chuckles when Dean can't keep eye contact. "It's beautiful." He studies the clasp and his name pressed into the cover in scrawling font. Runs his fingers over the buttery brown leather. It's designed to hold two prescription pads as well as a pen. He hooks the bee pen into the loop holder and looks up at Dean. "It's perfect, Dean. Thank you."

Dean shrugs but can't stop the grin that spreads over his face. "No problem. Can I open mine?"

"Yes." Castiel scoots a little bit closer until their knees are touching as they sit cross legged. Dean opens his first gifts, which are also practical, but were fun to pick out. Fancy beef jerky from the local farm, an extremely useful pocket guide on Maine's flora and fauna, and Dean can't help laughing at one of the bulkier boxes. "This is the fanciest first aid kit _ever_. I don't even know what some of this shit is!"

"There's an instruction book inside," Castiel says in his instructional doctor tone. Which is pretty hot. "It's best to be prepared for anything in your line of work."

"It's awesome. Thanks, Cas."

He beams and holds out the smaller box. "You're welcome."

Dean takes it and rips off the paper carelessly while Castiel keeps smiling at him. But after opening it, Dean holds the gift like it's glass. "Holy crap," he says. "Cas, this is amazing."

"It's titanium and high grade steel. Rust proof."

"And engraved," he says, running his thumb over his name on the fancy multi-tool. "Sam would probably try to steal this otherwise."

"I'll admit that I don't know much about them, but this one came highly recommended," Castiel says, leaning forward to watch Dean examine the various screwdrivers, knives, scissors, files, and pliers.

"This'll probably last me a lifetime," Dean says, closing it back up. "I got an old one right now, and it's seen better days, but I could never justify replacing it since it still worked fine."

Their faces are very close together. "So, you like it?"

It's barely a breath when Dean answers, "yeah."

Castiel initiates the kiss. He lunges forward, right into Dean's lap and seals their lips together frantically. Dean catches him easily, responding in kind, but shocked at how fast Castiel's heart is pounding against his chest. He would have thought that their return to making out would have been a lot more of a slow burn, but Castiel isn't being gentle. He makes a sound of deep satisfaction in his throat as he tangles his hands in Dean's hair, as he changes from kissing to nipping at his lips.

Not that he doesn't love everything about this rough and tumble situation, but Dean notices before long that Castiel is _shaking_. Dean allows himself to get lost in it all for a moment, but when panic begins to tinge the desperation in Castiel's scent, the ranger pulls back, gently separating them with his hands on the other alpha's shoulders.

"Cas. Hey. Slow down, okay? Breathe."

Why is his voice so calm? Castiel feels like he's about to go out of his mind. He wants to bite, claim, have, _now_ \- he shudders when Dean's cold hands touch either side of his face, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs. "Dean." He sounds parched.

Dean touches their foreheads together, eyes closed. "Breathe," he exhales.

He thinks he's sort of forgotten how to do that, actually. But Dean holding him steady helps. Castiel shuts his eyes. He can't imagine being able to actually calm down. It's so impossible. But... his body unconsciously responds to Dean in small measures. On the outside, the other alpha seems completely calm and unaffected. The only giveaway is his heart thundering under Castiel's hands causing a slight tremble. His breathing is slow and even. Gradually, Castiel's own breathing mirrors him, clearing the dizziness away. That's nice.

Nicer when his pheromones start to level out as well. They're not clashing with the ranger's so harshly. He lets out a small, breathy moan. The scent compatibility had been compelling from the start; promising this very thing, but they've never managed it until now. The complimentary notes of their combined scents is _outstanding_. "Dean," he says more strongly.

"We've got all the time in the world."

He lays his hands over Dean's on his face. "Is it all going to be okay?" He doesn't know why that's the only question he can think of.

Dean's breath is warm on his face when he says, "I think so."

Castiel swallows past the lump in his throat. "I prayed for this a lot. At Mass tonight, too. Well... not this exactly, but to be happy again. To _feel_ again. I don't want to rush this. I don't want to fail with you."

Dean shifts a little, but not enough to break them apart. He settles with his back against the love seat, legs out straight, Castiel straddling his thighs. "If I hadn't been bonded before, I would have been all over you the second I could, y'know?" He opens his eyes and Castiel is right there with him, staring at him from so close that he goes a little cross eyed. "I wanna do the right thing here."

Castiel leans back further, bringing their joined hands down to his lap. He's fascinated by the colorful blinking tree lights illuminating Dean's face. "Do you think we're dishonoring our mates?"

Dean shakes his head. "No, I... okay, originally I thought it was all too much too soon. But then I remembered how Benny was when he was alive." For once the name isn't shards of glass coming out. "And I realized the worst thing for me to do was treat his memory like I wanted to."

Castiel tilts his head with a frown of confusion. "What do you mean?"

Dean tips a shoulder up with a grimace as he struggles for an explanation. "Benny was... dunno how to explain it... I called him a chaser."

A small smile tilts the corner of Castiel's lip, but he doesn't fill the silence while Dean thinks.

Eventually Dean continues. "Benny chased everything that made him happy. He didn't give a shit about what anyone else had to say about it, right? We got married in seven months because fuck society, he said. He knew. I knew. That was enough. Always..." he stops to clear his throat. His voice is rougher when he starts again with, "making mistakes was part of being human and he didn't see anything as lasting forever. Nothing couldn't be undone. He never held back just because something might not work out. He was really fucking brave. He took all the risks, and you know what? He was usually right and things normally worked."

Castiel nods. He understands that. Envies that. 

Dean sighs. "What I'm trying to say is, I think Benny would be happy for me. He'd be happy that I'm trying to be happy by only listening to myself. I know for a fact he's out there in the universe, or wherever, and probably trying to haunt me because he feels guilty that I'm suffering after his death. But in the end, I think he'd congratulate me for doing what I wanted without listening to the static." He swipes at the corner of his eye with his thumb. Then with a watery smirk adds, "he'd think you were hot, too."

Castiel laughs shortly, breaking the tension. Dean's bittersweet acceptance of where he's at deepens his natural scent to a more earthy tone. It tugs at Castiel, drawing him deeper. His hindbrain relaxes from its frenzy to the desire to help ease his potential mate's sadness. "Do you have a picture of him?"

Dean's eyes widen. "You wanna see him?"

"If it's okay with you."

"Yeah," Dean says quickly. He twists his upper body to grab for his wallet on the end table next to the couch. He can't quite reach it, so Castiel slides off his lap and moves to sit beside him. Dean opens the flap and pulls out a creased 3x5. Castiel accepts it carefully, cradling it in the palm of his hand so he doesn't touch the glossy part despite the fact that it's already smudged and crinkled.

It must be their wedding day in the photo. Dean and Benny are standing side by side bathed in bright sunlight. They're both beaming for the camera in tuxedos, white rose boutonnieres pinned to their lapels. "He's very handsome," Castiel says. It's true. In the photo, Benny is the picture of health. Salt and pepper temples, trimmed beard, a bulk on him that looks like mostly muscle.

"Southern accent, too," Dean says.

"Bestill my heart," Castiel deadpans, bumping Dean's shoulder, though he's glad to see the life returning to the other alpha's eyes and their combined scents warm again towards affection. 

Dean plucks the photo out of his hands and tucks it back in his wallet. "What about Amelia?" he asks casually. He doesn't want to spook Castiel into a subject he's not ready to talk about yet, but he is curious.

Gamely, Castiel answers, "what about her?"

Dean crosses his ankles and wiggles his toes near the fire. "Was she the type to jump out of planes on a dare, or plan every second of a vacation and drive you crazy?"

Castiel copies Dean's position, touching their shoulders together while he contemplates the fireplace. "Maybe a bit of both," he admits. "She was spontaneous when we dated. She could be anal about some things, like keeping the house clean, but she'd get up at a moment's notice to go on a road trip on the weekends. After we got married, though... for a while she planned everything." His smile turns soft at the memories. "She was so concerned with making everything _count_ until one day I stormed out of Disneyland because she was so crazy about making memories on that vacation that she told me I couldn't have lunch for fifteen more minutes or I'd mess up the rest of the day."

Dean laughs helplessly at the fond but sour look on Castiel's face. "That really happened?"

"Yes," he sighs. "It was awful. We'd saved up for a whole year to take that trip. I was still a resident, and she was a homemaker, so we were beyond poor. We made up shortly thereafter, of course, and she lightened up after that, but she was certainly the type to latch onto things like a piranha. Her tenacity was what I loved most about her, though she did have to be reminded sometimes to pull it back."

"She sounds amazing," Dean says. "I think she would have hated me on a vacation. I feel like I've spoiled the whole thing if I've planned anything at all. I like the adventure of flying by the seat of my pants."

Castiel grins. "She would have thought you were incredibly attractive, but yes, she would have read you the riot act on a vacation."

Silence falls for a while, each man caught in his own thoughts. Dean thinks about Castiel and Amelia. How they'd probably been a perfect couple. He's pretty sure that Castiel is more like Amelia than he lets on. And then his thoughts drift to Benny. He's grateful that he can actually breathe through them rather than drowning. He silently thanks Benny for being as awesome as he was to help get to the good memories rather than the suffering. That's what love is, after all.

Castiel lets his thoughts wander from Dean and Benny back to Amelia. She would have liked Dean well enough, but probably wouldn't have understood why Castiel was attracted to him more than just the scent compatibility. He's not sure he'll even be able to explain it to her when he closes his eyes at night and talks to her in his prayers. There's a spark about Dean that Castiel just can't deny. He's good with Claire for no other reason than he thinks she's a great kid. He's kind and thoughtful. Smart. Resourceful. Not much like Amelia on the surface at all, but they have the same kind of light about them.

But they've probably had enough revelations for one night. Even if it is Christmas.

Dean puts his arm around Castiel and pulls him closer. "Thanks for coming over tonight."

"Thanks for inviting me."

"We need to go on another real date soon that lasts more than a lunch break."

"I agree."

Dean turns his head to see Castiel watching him. "You choose this time. Last time was my choice."

"It was a good choice," Castiel assures him. He's a little bit in love with the way it makes Dean's eyes shine with affection and his scent get more spicy. "Though, I guess I could come up with something good."

"Bet you can," Dean says flirtatiously. 

He can't resist. Castiel leans over and kisses Dean on the mouth again. Dean's hand goes into his hair, gripping tightly and arching Castiel's neck slightly as he deepens the embrace. It's fireworks. Though neither push towards frantic, it still leaves them both breathless again. And when Dean draws back, still holding Castiel's head in place, he only goes far enough for his lips to travel down the tendon to Castiel's collarbone and then back up halfway to mouth where his scent glands are bunched and slightly swollen. 

_He wants to mark me_ , Castiel thinks dazedly as he slides his fingers over the back of Dean's neck, hanging on for dear life. _I want him to mark me_.

And Dean does, though he doesn't break the skin. Not to mate him. Castiel moans deeply as Dean's teeth latch on to suck a small bruise on to his skin. Dean answers his moan with one of his own as Castiel's pheromones explode over his tongue. Gently he pulls back and when Castiel sees the desire on Dean's face; his wide-blown pupils, Castiel _has_ to return the favor. 

Not breaking eye contact until he's too close to maintain it, Castiel licks a stripe from shoulder to ear, and then down to the midpoint again where he doesn't waste time getting a full taste of Dean's pheromones on his tongue. It almost makes his eyes roll back in his head, and his dick hardens. He wants this man so badly, he can't stand it. And Dean's rapid breathing and swollen glands prove that he's in the same position.

It's startling how easily they can read each other. Dean recaptures Castiel's lips the second Castiel starts missing Dean's, and the nibbles and curls of their tongues together is a lesson in perfect compatibility. 

For a moment, Castiel wonders if he should be doing this on Christmas Eve. It almost makes him laugh. His religion is integrated seamlessly into his life, but sometimes it comes close to ruining moments. Like this one he's drawn back to in an instant when Dean's hands stroke down his arms to entwine their fingers, making both of them shiver. It's starting to get dangerous again.

That's why they both break apart finally, not touching anywhere so that they can collect themselves. 

Finally, Dean's teasing smirk returns. "Not gonna lie, I'll be thinking about you a _lot_ tonight."

Castiel leans in until they're nearly touching again. "Me, too," he says, voice pitched low and sexy.

With a smoky laugh, Dean stumbles to his feet, cursing softly at the dizziness the making out gave him. He holds his hands out and tugs Castiel up. Castiel bends to pick up his gifts to take home, Dean gathers the discarded outerwear, and then they walk to the door together, glued to each other's sides. In the entryway, Dean makes it difficult for Castiel to put on his clothes because he has to kiss him again between every item. In the end, they're both tousled and flushed by the time Castiel has his shoes on and is ready to go.

Dean opens the door. "Merry Christmas, Cas."

One last quick peck on the lips. "Merry Christmas, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued comments and support!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean have their family Christmas. Claire has a rough start to the new year.

Castiel stumbles down to the dining room in his bare feet with eyes only half open while Claire drags him with a broken record repeat of, "come on! _Come on_!" It's barely seven, but Naomi is already fully dressed and pouring herself coffee. Gabriel must have been up, too, because he's laid out a spread of hot food on the bar table in the back of the dining room already. No one else is around, but Castiel can guess where they are. Probably shaking all the presents under the tree in the drawing room. Naomi and Cain insist on everyone being present for Christmas breakfast. 

Naomi greets Claire warmly and helps her climb up to her booster seat at the table while Castiel takes the initiative to fill up Claire's plastic plate with food. She's the only one allowed to eat before the rest of the family is gathered.

"You're a mess, Castiel," Naomi says. 

He sits down heavily next to his daughter, kissing her messy cheek. She sneezes into her eggs. "It's barely seven, Mother," he says.

"How did you survive working in the ER?" she tuts, patting his hair down as she takes her seat, handing him a mug of coffee.

"I have no idea," he answers. "I'm the last one up?"

"Of course you are, though I hear those heathens coming now."

Sure enough, footsteps echo down the hall accompanied by loud talking, and the rest of the clan bursts into the dining room, boisterously offering their greetings to Castiel and Claire as they fill their plates. 

Once they're seated, Cain gives the special Christmas prayer in his solemn tones, but almost before the "amen" is out of his mouth, the noise starts again as they all tuck into their food.

Castiel does admit as he eats that he's the least put together of his family, even this early in the morning. All of them are still in their pajamas and robes, save for Naomi, but everyone else has put in a modicum of effort into being presentable. Brushed hair all around, and Anna is wearing light makeup. 

Everyone leaves Castiel out of the conversation long enough for the morning grump to burn off with calories and caffeine, but Gabriel pounces the minute he sees a smile start to emerge on his brother's face as he wipes ketchup off of Claire's mouth. "So, Cassie," Gabriel begins airly; loudly enough that the rest of the conversations stop. "How was your Christmas Eve with Ranger Winchester?"

Castiel glares at Gabriel across the table, weighing his response options carefully. "That's hardly Christmas breakfast conversation," he says finally. He'd thought that he was being tactful.

Gabriel can, however, take every opportunity to take it the wrong way. "It was that good?" he laughs.

"Gabriel," Cain admonishes.

"What?" Gabriel demands. "It's just a question!"

Michael gestures towards Castiel with his fork. "Not with _that_ hickey, it's not."

Anna giggles, scandalized. 

Castiel doesn't even bother to cover it or hide it in any way. He's not ashamed of it, nor is he a teenager anymore. He won't let his siblings ruin this for him. He says nothing.

Surprisingly, Cain fills the silence. "Do we need to have a discussion?"

Castiel sighs. "At breakfast?"

Anna's still laughing when she says, "we can talk as a family about you dating, or we can snoop and let the gossip ruin everything."

"It's nothing," Castiel insists to his hash browns. 

"I disagree," Naomi says, touching her napkin to her lips. "Not to be indelicate, but that mark does show intent."

_Lord God save my from my well-meaning family._

Gabriel looks like he's watching his favorite movie. "I think that deserves an answer, Cassie."

"No, it doesn't," Castiel says hotly, but keeps his voice as even as possible so as not to upset his daughter. "You're teasing me, and I don't appreciate it. This doesn't affect you." He casts his eyes around. "Any of you."

"It does," Naomi says, not unkindly. "It affects Claire and the family. This is a big decision, Castiel."

He rolls his eyes, at the same time feeling his throat constrict. He can't explain the sudden urge to cry, though he suspects it has a lot to do with him wanting to keep this _thing_ with Dean to himself for as long as possible. Right now it's good. It's pure. His family butting in, even with the best of intentions, is the last thing that he wants to deal with while he's still just exploring what he and Dean are even going to be. "It's not that serious yet," he says finally, resigned. He continues quickly when he sees his father open his mouth to argue. "I know what it looks like, and _yes_ , Dean and I are considering pursuing a relationship."

"Dee!" Claire yells, spraying her mouthful of eggs over the table. "Where DeeDee?"

Castiel pats her head. "He's not here, baby. We're just talking about him."

He can see his mother giving him a stern look and the rest of his siblings watching him carefully. "Castiel," Naomi says gently.

"It's fine, Mother. Everyone. I promise." In for a penny, in for a pound. "Dean's been through the same thing that I have. He lost his mate the same time that I lost Amelia. We moved here for similar reasons. We're scent compatible, and we're getting to know each other. Claire trusts him. Dean's wonderful with her. He bought her Christmas presents, and everything." He twists his napkin in his hands, but makes sure to keep eye contact with his family members to show that he's not ashamed of any of it. He wants Dean. That's not going to change. "I know you're worried, and you have every right to be. But I'm being careful with myself. I'm..." he pauses. Sucks in a breath. "I'm getting there." He'd almost said _happy_.

"That's good enough for me," Cain says after a moment. "Now, Gabriel, you can clean up the dishes since you started this whole thing. The rest of us will retire to the den to open our stockings."

That soothes Castiel's irritation instantly as he gives his brother a smirk, picks Claire up from her seat, and saunters into the family room.

xxXXxx

"Late night?"

Dean nearly jumps a foot and drops his coffee mug, shocked out of dozing with his eyes open while waiting for the coffee to brew. "Jesus, Sammy! Warn a guy, would ya?"

He chuckles. "I wasn't exactly sneaking up on you. I rang the doorbell and everything."

"Sorry, man," he sighs. "I was just thinking."

Sam leans casually against the counter next to his brother. "About what? The awesome Christmas breakfast Dad is gonna make, or the gift you're wearing right now?"

"Huh?" Dean glances down at himself. He's in his old red checked pajama pants and AC/DC shirt. Nothing new, and certainly not a present.

Sam flicks him on the side of his neck. "That mark. Congrats."

Absently Dean rubs the spot. It hurts like a bruise. _Oh, man_. It must be a hell of hickey. It almost makes him blush. _Almost_. "Dude, no congrats necessary. We didn't like, mate or anything."

"You didn't _what_?" John exclaims, entering the kitchen with an armload of paper grocery bags. He places them on the counter. "Why are we talking about mating?"

"We're not," Dean says. He picks up the carafe and pours himself a cup of coffee, then moves out of the way of John's tidal wave of cooking fury. 

"But you're going to," John says matter-of-factly. "That giant hickey right over your gland suggests it."

Sam huffs. "That's pretty crude, Dad."

John snorts. "Please. The both of you are disgusting enough on the regular. And if you can't talk about sex and mating, then you don't deserve to be having either one."

Both Sam and Dean laugh. Sam pours himself a cup of coffee and then also gets out of the way. "Whatever, Dad. Dean and I both have those things under control."

John turns on the oven and pulls out Dean's cast iron skillet. That means his famous hash scramble, and that's the true meaning of Christmas, as far as Dean's concerned. It's almost as thrilling as the implications of what he's got going with Castiel now. Not that it's... much of anything yet. But it will be. They'd pretty much promised to be more. And they've both got the marks to prove it.

"Good for you, Dean," Sam says, pulling him out of his thoughts again.

John glances over his shoulder as he dumps the sausage into the pan to brown. "I'm sure I'd say the same if I knew what the hell was going on."

"Dean talked to you about this," Sam points out.

"Not _this_ ," John answers. "Obviously something's changed that I think we should have a word or two about."

Dean slumps in his chair. "Can't this wait? It's Christmas! Happiness and good cheer, right?"

"Huh," John returns. "You trying to tell me that you and Cas aren't full of both?"

"No!" Dean rushes to say. "I didn't mean it like that! Cas and I are fine. It's just new. And private. When did the two of you become such nosy old women?"

John grins over his shoulder. "Since you started keeping secrets."

Dean leans his chair back on two legs and kicks his bare feet up onto the table. "I've always kept secrets. Figured you didn't want to know all about what me and Benny got up to at home."

"Oh, God," Sam groans.

"Or that girl back in college, Rhonda Hurley? Did you know she used to make me-"

" _Nope_! Sam yells. "Enough of that! Oh, my God, I don't wanna know, and neither does Dad!"

Dean shrugs with a shit-eating grin. "You asked. If you can't take the heat..."

"I blame Dad for this one," Sam mumbles, hiding his grimace behind his coffee mug.

But the conversation has run its course, thanks to Dean. He knows that his family doesn't mean anything by their teasing, and that they both approve of him dating a _doctor_. He still just wants to keep things only between him and Castiel as much as he can. Neither Sam's advice nor his dad's will lead him in the wrong direction, but he doesn't want their influence right now. He wants to float on in his own way until things get more serious. Which they will. He's planning on it. Knows it with every fibre of his being. He and Castiel are long haul with each other. There'll be plenty of time to get his family's input on that later.

John serves up his famous Christmas morning breakfast shortly thereafter. Neither Dean nor Sam has ever mastered the recipe for the sausage, egg, and hash skillet bake. And unlike Mary, who had wanted to pass down the Campbell family secrets to her sons, John's held his close to his chest. He says it's incentive to keep his sons coming to visit, but Dean suspects it's really just a family tradition that he wants to hang on to for himself for as long as possible. He's fine with that. The breakfast is secretly his favorite part of Christmas. Until he makes the glazed apple pie for dessert, that is.

He and Sam manage to keep things civil during the meal, though that's less because of any manners they have, than the threat of John taking away their gifts. They talk about who's going to get John to the airport (Sam), and who's going to host the last family dinner (Dean).

When Sam goes outside to bring his presents in from the car, John stands beside Dean, rinsing off plates and handing them over for Dean to put in the dishwasher. "You and Dr. Novak are getting serious," he says. It's not a question.

"Looks like it," Dean answers evasively. He tries not to be on guard, but he can't help the tension in his shoulders.

"Relax," John says. "No funking up the place with your bad smell today, kid. I was just asking. I think the good doctor is fine for you. So long as you're fine with him."

Dean knows what he's really trying to say. "We're going slow," he assures him. "I'm doing everything the right way."

"That's all I need to know," John says. He's smiling as he hands off the next dish and he both looks and smells pretty damn proud. "You're going the right way, Dean."

"Thanks," he says. He means it. His dad's _been_ there. And if he believes it's fine, then it is. It will be. It's a damn good feeling.

He can't wait to see Castiel again.

xxXXxx

It's easier said than done meeting up again after Christmas.There's a lot of texting and desire to work _something_ out, but it's not meant to be in the rush to the new year. John leaves before New Year's Eve to spend it with Kate and Adam, and Sam is put back on patrol at the station to help keep the kids with illegal fireworks from setting the town on fire. Or whatever.

Dean and Garth also have their hands full patrolling the parks, though they're all closed. Dean's learned all the hiding places for underage drinkers and pot smokers.

Castiel has to patch up a surprising number of fireworks injuries. And then flu season kicks off again.

They both finally admit defeat on January 2nd, and Dean shows up at the clinic with the cafe's homemade soup, bread, and grilled cheese after helping with cleanup from the town's New Year's Eve celebrations. Castiel looks like he's about to cry, he's so grateful. He yanks Dean back into his office and kisses him like he was paid to do it until their clothes are wrinkled, hair wrecked, both half-hard. It's the best way to make up for lost time.

Castiel has Dean backed up against his desk, and when he comes up for air, Dean laughs and Castiel goes boneless against him, also chuckling. "I'm tired of eating lunch with you," he mutters into Dean's thick winter coat.

"Me, too," Dean murmurs into the doctor's hair.

"Can we have dinner together?"

"Or do something not involving food?"

Castiel jerks back, squinting up suspiciously. "Who are you, and what have you done with Dean Winchester?"

"Pod person," Dean grins as he dips his head for another kiss.

Neither of them had realized that they'd been _aching_ without each other the past several days. Castiel is grounded by the spicy cloves scent and Dean is relaxed by the mossy smell that surrounds Castiel when he's happy.

It's a moment behind closed doors with the soup going cold in the styrofoam containers and it's completely wonderful.

Until Gabriel shows up at the clinic with Claire and she looks terrible.

Foregoing protocol, Castiel rushes forward and opens his arms for Claire. She's sniffling and coughing and crying and Castiel's heart breaks. She'd been fine this morning, he was sure of it. He carries her over to an exam room with Gabriel and Dean trotting behind. She wipes her snotty nose all over Castiel's lab coat and clings to him like it's going out of style.

"I need to get a look at you, baby," he murmurs. 

She shakes her head vigorously against his shoulder.

"I can make you feel better, Claire, but I have to take your temperature and examine you. Nothing will hurt, I promise."

"No!" Claire wails.

Castiel sits down on the exam bed with her in his lap, stroking her hair. He turns his pleading eyes to Gabriel, who covertly kicks Dean on the back of his leg. The ranger stumbles forward. He sits heavily next to Castiel. "Claire-bear," he says softly, "can you do me a huge favor and look at me?"

She lifts her head and blinks her glassy eyes at him. "DeeDee," she sniffles miserably. Dean holds out his hands. She tips herself forward right against him. In a fluid movement, Dean turns her to face outward and settles her back against his chest. He kisses her curls and nods at Castiel to get on with it.

Despite the concern over his daughter, Castiel feels fit to burst. Dean's pheromones thicken in the air, worried, but also solid. Brave to comfort Claire. _This man is an honest-to-God miracle_. Castiel wastes no time. He takes her temperature; it's high. Her glands are swollen. How had he not noticed the fluid in her ears? She hadn't shown any signs of pain, but now both eardrums are swollen enough that they look about ready to rupture. Her throat is terribly red from the post-nasal drip. 

"Sinus infection," Castiel says. "Double ear infection. Cold. Oh, Claire, baby, I'm sorry I didn't notice."

"She's been acting fine," Gabriel assures him. "A little snotty, but she started to deteriorate as the morning went on. She barely ate. I got suspicious when she woke up crying from her nap and her forehead felt hot."

"It's okay, Gabriel," Castiel assures him. "It's hard to tell with children sometimes. I... should take her home. Get her some antibiotics."

"Want DeeDee," Claire insists, holding on to Dean like she's superglued to his shirt when Castiel attempts to extract her.

"I know," Castiel says wearily, "but the best thing for you is rest at home and take some medicine."

" _DeeDee is best_!" Claire argues, chin set tight and eyebrows low in a threatening look. The expression is so clearly like her father.

Dean snorts and Castiel shoots him a nasty look. "Come on," Dean says mildly. "She's not wrong."

"You're not helping," Castiel says. Gabriel just laughs behind his hand.

"Let me help," Dean says in a tone that brooks no argument.

Gabriel, for one, takes a step backwards towards the door. "That would be good. I promised I'd take the family down to the outlet mall today and then back to the B&B. You okay with this, Cassie?"

He doesn't want to say yes. It's a huge imposition. Dean's not her guardian at all. But he'd do anything for Claire, and Dean _had_ offered... "Sure," Castiel agrees. Claire seems comforted by Dean, and he's loathe to take that away from her if the man in willing to help. It's not for him, after all. It's for Claire.

Gabriel beats a quick retreat, and Castiel goes to the room's phone to call the pharmacy to prepare the antibiotics and ear drops. He listens with half an ear to Dean mumbling comforting words to his daughter as he pokes his head out of the room to inform Pamela that she's in charge. She takes one look at Claire and agrees that the little girl needs her father.

"I got this," Dean says when they're ready to go. He holds Claire close and walks them out the back entrance straight to Castiel's car. "Why don't you get her settled at home and I'll stop by the pharmacy to pick up the medication." He ducks down and fastens Claire in her carseat.

"Dean," Castiel starts. "You don't have to-"

"I got this," Dean repeats firmly. "I want to help. She likes me. Unless... am I getting in the way?"

Castiel squeezes the other alpha's arm. "Not at all. I appreciate it." He smiles as reassuringly as he can, but it's wobbly. He can't get over Dean's kindness. And the sooner he has Claire home, the better. He thanks Dean and gets into the car quickly. He drives home thanking God for all the blessings in his life. 

Claire is in misery when they reach home. He can't do much for her except give her a mild fever reducer and comfort. He carries her to his bedroom and sits her down on the mattress to watch TV while he fills the humidifier. 

Dean texts fifteen minutes later.

 _Dean:_ omw

 _Me:_ the door's open.

He must have broken the speed limit on the way over, because Dean's slipping into Castiel's bedroom way too soon holding a paper bag with the medicine as well as the lunch they hadn't eaten. "It's chicken noodle soup, so it's good for a cold, right?" he says. "The label on the antibiotics says to take it with food. I also got some re-hydration juice or whatever it is."

Castiel smiles and stands. He pats the bed. Claire copies him from dead center on the king sized mattress, ensconced among six pillows.

Well, he can't possibly ignore an invitation like that. Dean toes out of his shoes, hands off the bags, and slips under the blankets, cuddling right up to Claire.

Castiel watches them fondly. "I'll go prepare this. Be back in a minute."

As he goes to the kitchen, he muses that this isn't the way he'd planned to get Dean into his bed eventually, but it's somehow fitting. Despite Claire's illness. Dean _cares_ about more than getting laid or a frantic scent bond. He's willing to stick around for the hard times, too. It's... he can't quantify it. He doesn't want to try yet. So he pours the soup into one of Claire's plastic bowls and microwaves it until it's lukewarm, then drains off most of the broth so it's easier for her to navigate with a fork rather than worrying about a huge spilled mess all over his bed. He measures out the antibiotics into the dosing cup. He places them on a TV tray with a small glass of orange juice, and carries it all back to the bedroom. He stops just shy of the open door. Dean and Claire are talking.

"Hurts, Deedee," Claire says, sneezing and coughing again.

There's rustling of fabric, and Castiel peeks around the door frame to see Dean wiping her nose with a tissue. "I know it does, Claire-bear. But I got you medicine and soup. Your daddy's gonna take good care of you, and you'll feel better soon." He wraps an arm around her and points to the TV while she wipes her nose on his sleeve. "So, what's up with these guys? That duck is super bossy. Is that a chicken?"

"Peep," Claire says.

"That's it's name?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome."

Smiling, Castiel enters the room. "You two look cozy."

"Yeah," Claire answers.

"Come and join us," Dean offers, pulling the covers back on the other side of Claire.

"Much obliged." He sits down on the edge of the bed and arranges the tray over Claire's lap. She drinks the medicine gamely and then digs into her food. Despite being sick, now that she's home, her appetite is returning.

Satisfied that she's not about to spill her food everywhere, Castiel glances up and sees Dean watching him from over Claire's head. And... something in him feels like it's giving way. The ground disappearing beneath him. He can see it all reflected on Dean's face as much as in his scent in the way it thickens and hits him on a deeper level. 

He'd been prepared to miss Amelia terribly if and when something like this ever happened again. And he does. He remembers Saturday morning cartoons with Claire squashed between them just like now as the three of them sang the stupid theme songs and wrestled around in the sheets during commercial breaks. 

However... Dean's looking at him with the same sort of emotions that Amelia had. And nothing about his scent or stature suggests that he's uncomfortable with any of it. Neither is Castiel. He just knows. "Thank you for coming over, Dean," he says.

"No problem," Dean answers with a smile that's mostly in his eyes. "Happy to help."

"Be quiet!" Claire orders, pointing at the TV. "Peep."

Dean laughs and Castiel grins. When Claire finishes her lunch, Castiel puts the tray on the floor for the moment since he's too comfortable to get up and take it to the kitchen. Then he resettles again with his arm draped over Claire's stack of pillows so that he's touching Dean's shoulder. Dean responds by squeezing his arm. The afternoon passes lazily just like that.

Claire dozes after a couple of hours watching TV and letting her medicine work. Gently, Castiel lifts her from the pillow nest and murmurs, "I'm going to put Claire in her bed upstairs. Do you need to go?"

"I've got nothing to do," Dean assures him, stretching his arms over his head and then flopping back into the sheets with a grin. "Take your time. I'll be right here."

Castiel gives him a inscrutable look. "Very well," he says, and then he's taking Claire to her room.

Dean turns his head towards the pillows and sniffs deeply to pull Castiel's scent into his lungs. He'd been waiting to do that all day, though it would have been rude in front of Claire. He also takes his time to really study the room while Castiel's away.

For one, he's pretty shocked that Castiel has a TV in here. He figured he would have been the type to ban electronics from the bedroom. The bed is awesome; definitely memory foam. Down comforter and pillows. How does the man even summon the will in the mornings to get out of it?

The dresser, armoire, and bed frame are all expensive dark stained cherry wood topped with granite, and the bedside lamps give off low, warm light. The ceiling fan stirs up the warm air, and combined with Castiel's scent, Dean is sure that he could sleep forever here. He closes his eyes and soaks in the feeling.

This? It's good. Exactly what he's been craving since Christmas Eve. He drifts towards half-sleep hoping that Castiel feels the same way. Every time they meet it feels more permanent. And he doesn't even want to fight it. He just wants to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess we're getting somewhere now, aren't we? Dean's in Castiel's bed, at least! That's something! :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**NSFW**_
> 
> That's really all I need to say to summarize this chapter, yes? :D

Dean blinks back to wakefulness when he hears Castiel's footsteps in the hall. He stands up, yawns, stretches, and contemplates asking Castiel if he can make some coffee. He doesn't want to sleep through their first real alone time in days. Especially in Castiel's house. In his _room_. Dean can tell that it's his most intimate space. He's positive that not even his family members have been allowed in here, save for Claire.

Castiel steps back in the room and shuts the door behind him. He sets the baby monitor on the dresser next to the TV.

"How's she doing?" Dean asks quietly, though he knows he doesn't have to keep his voice down.

"She didn't wake up at all," Castiel answers. "She'll probably sleep for several hours until dinner."

Dean takes a step towards him. He can practically feel the weariness rolling off of Castiel and weighting the air. "She's gonna be fine," he says. "You're not a bad father for not noticing sooner. You're a fantastic dad all the time." He grins. "You're probably even better than _my_ dad, and that's saying something."

 _You shouldn't say things like that so easily_. Castiel rushes forward and kisses him properly. He's wanted it so badly. Dean's mouth is a revelation. Especially because he doesn't hesitate in the slightest. His arms go around Castiel's shoulders and pull him closer. Their bodies aren't flush, but he can feel Dean's body heat. Tastes the hint of chicken soup in his mouth when his tongue delves further. His pheromones are as he remembers. Perfection. It lasts for a fleeting minute, though. Getting carried away too fast never did either of them any favors.

When Dean pulls back first, his eyes are bright, and his lips are wet. He's gorgeous. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"Because I wanted to. Because you're wonderful. Because every time you say things like that to me, it makes me feel..." _Everything_. He doesn't know what to say so he just stares up at Dean, willing him to understand.

And Dean gets it. He can see it written all over Castiel's face. So this time, he's the one to start it. There's simply no way to hold back anymore. They should take it slow and make sure they're on the same page; that everything's going at the pace they _both_ need. But then Castiel makes a noise of pure desire in his chest when Dean seals their lips together again.

It can't stay chaste. It's teeth and tongues and fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. They both try to keep it simple, but they can't. Their combined lusty pheromones sink deep into their hindbrains, wiping away anything else. 

Castiel shoves Dean back towards the bed roughly until the taller alpha collides against the bedpost with a grunt. That touches off a frenzy in Castiel that's messy, edging towards painful, out of control, _amazing_.

The kissing is so frantic that Dean's not entirely sure what part of Castiel's body he's got his mouth on from one second to the next. His hands are everywhere, and so are Castiel's. They tear at his clothing when they reach a fever pitch. Dean's mind is beginning to blank out. Or fog over. His alpha is roaring to life, strong and desperate for more, more, _more_.

Castiel breaks off suddenly, frozen in place, hands on Dean's chest.

It takes a minute, but Dean snaps back to reality with a breath sucked in so hard that it makes him hiccup. His heart is still pounding under Castiel's fingers. "What?" he gasps, covering the other man's hands with his own. Castiel won't look at him. "Hey," he says softly. "Cas, what's going on?" His body is still thrumming with desire like small electric shocks on each of his nerve endings. It's making him jumpy.

Castiel's fingers twitch and curl against his chest. There's a small clink of metal. _Oh_.

Dean takes a small step back, but doesn't release Castiel's grip. "Wedding rings," he says.

Gently brushing over the bands, Castiel says, "yours and Benny's."

"Yes."

"Are you-"

"No. I'm not wishing you were him." He presses Castiel's hands, but the doctor pulls away.

Dean has only a second to feel his heart sink before Castiel is unbuttoning his own shirt. Three buttons down, Dean realizes why. He can't stop himself from reaching out to touch warm skin and gold rings. "Yours and Amelia's."

"Yes. I never thought I'd want this sort of thing ever again."

Dean stares down at his feet. "Is it too much? Or too soon? Or both?"

"This is the right time, Dean."

"You sure?"

"Yes." He squeezes the rings around Dean's neck. Dean finds himself doing the same to Castiel's. It's okay. It's all okay.

Dean leans forward haltingly, drawn back by Castiel tugging slightly on the necklace, before kissing Castiel again. It's a lot slower, and far more thoughtful now that they're both making the conscious decision instead of letting their baser instincts get the best of them. For his part, Dean's enjoying it a lot more this way for the moment. Sure, he's _down_ with the crazy, hormonal making out, but he misses the nuances that way. Here, he can catch every subtle shift of movement and smell. Fuck, but it's good. Castiel is so good for him. To him. With him. He feels like an idiot for even considering it not working out.

"You're thinking too hard," Castiel murmurs against his mouth.

"Happens sometimes," Dean answers.

He can feel Castiel's chuckle rumble against his chest more than he can hear it. Then he's distracted again as the doctor begins picking his way down the sensitive skin of his neck lightly with his teeth. Dean bares his neck willingly. "What's going through that head of yours?"

"You," Dean admits. "How I shoulda done something like this a lot sooner."

"You tried," Castiel reminds him lightly. "And you got a bruised jaw for your effort." He taps Dean's jaw lightly with his fist where he'd punched him before.

"Will it be too weird if I told you it sort of turned me on?"

He looks so sheepish that Castiel laughs, cupping Dean's face and then giving him the most heated look he's capable of. "Me, too." The second the words are out of his mouth, he _oof's!_ down onto his back. Dean lets him scoot up until he's entirely laid out on the bed, but stalls any further movement. Not that he'd even _think_ of fighting this. Dean whips his shirt off over his head. It makes Castiel's mouth water and he finishes unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he can manage with his trembling fingers.

Their hands are all over each other again on naked skin and it's delicious tingling ecstasy. Even so, Castiel finds himself stammering, "th... this is fine with you, right? We're doing this? I want to be sure it's not only my hindbrain controlling things here. I want to make sure our human brains _and_ hormones are in agreement."

Dean hauls him up against his chest. It's comforting for a second before Dean's teeth nip at Castiel's earlobe. He traces one blunt nail down the side of Castiel's neck at the same time he says in a dirty growl, "Well, _I_ want you to fuck me."

With a violent shiver, Castiel sags against Dean. His brain is so loudly screaming, _YES, yes, yes_ that he can't even hear himself gasp the first thing that comes to mind, which is, "language!"

Dean's chuckle is even filthier than his dirty talk. He mouths down Castiel's neck to where his glands are more swollen than they were before and still bruised. Castiel cries out in helpless pleasure when Dean bites down hard enough to add to the bruising. Against inch after inch of exploring Castiel's skin with licks and bites, Dean says, "language? Okay. How 'bout this, _alpha_? I'm gonna spend some time making you hard. Take our clothes off. Get us both all _slicked_ up."

 _Oh, God._ Castiel grabs at Dean's biceps as hard as he can.

"Then you're gonna put your dick inside me and fuck me until I come."

It's way too much, and more than can be expected of his self-control. Castiel's alpha hindbrain is fully overtaking him. And he's allowing it because Dean is doing the same thing. He can see it in the man's eyes. The way his pupils dilate and he draws in deep, panting breaths, nostrils flaring.

"You smell so fucking _good_ ," Dean groans, and that's it.

Castiel heaves Dean onto his back and scrambles to his end table for the condoms and both kinds of lube. He has no idea if Dean prefers regular lube or artificial slick. He tosses them beside the pillows and then he refocuses on the task that Dean's demanded of him. One that he's more than willing to go for. He's going to fuck this glorious, gorgeous, incredible alpha beneath him.

Their eyes meet and everything is frozen in time for a split second. Then, at the same time, they both rip at their remaining layers of clothing. Castiel moves enough for Dean to sit up, but when he bucks his hips up to remove his jeans, Castiel feels their hard lengths rub together, and he's shoving Dean back down, kissing him hard and finally getting their clothes off. The first touch of over-sensitive skin on skin is the most satisfied that Castiel's felt in ages. That is, until Dean allows himself to be manhandled. For another alpha to give him such trust...

Of course, he has to test it. He grips Dean's wrists tightly and pins them above his head. Dean arches up, struggling, but not enough to break free. He doesn't want to break free. Castiel hungrily looks over every inch of him, from his taut, straining muscles, to his hard dick resting against his belly. He's phenomenal.

Dean wraps his legs tightly around Castiel's lower back, powerful thighs squeezing. "Get to work, Cas."

Castiel grabs both the bottles and holds them up. "Choose," he demands in his harsh, alpha tone.

Smirking, Dean practically purrs the word, "slick."

Damn right. Castiel tosses the lube away with force and pops the lid on the artificial slick with his teeth. It's unscented, unflavored, but it feels so much better than the lube, in his opinion. The expensive stuff he bought is a great facsimile. And it can be scented. He might ask Dean to do it. Later. For now? He rubs it over his fingers and drops his hand to Dean's dick. The alpha hisses and his eyes slip closed as Castiel's fingers glide down the heavy length, over his perineum, around his tight hole. He might go out of his mind. Dean's hips jerk and almost accidentally, Castiel's finger slips inside. It's hot. Dean moans and grinds down.

Castiel tries to be gentle right at the beginning, but it's a fucking struggle. Dean's making needy noises in the back of his throat, _begging_. He twists his finger, searching for that sweet spot until Dean cries out and his back arches. His hips come off the bed and Castiel leans forward to suck the tip of Dean's dick in his mouth.

Alpha musk explodes across his tongue and Castiel's so hard that when his dick throbs with anticipation, it hurts. But it's nothing. The _rightness_ that washes over him as Dean's pheromones combined with his most intimate scent fill him is nothing short of a miracle. It draws every bit of his attention to claiming Dean; pleasing him and only him. Making sure that Dean won't ever want anyone else. Dean's legs slip up over Castiel's shoulders and hold fast. _Yes_. Just like this.

The noises that Dean makes as Castiel loosens him finger by finger, are delicious. His hands are clenched in Castiel's hair, pulling tightly. Castiel growls. Dean thrusts up, shoving his cock into Castiel's throat. Thankfully, he's never had much of a gag reflex, and takes it all. Dean makes a new noise of approval and his pheromones deepen further in a tidal wave of spice and fire. He's not sure how much time passes, but it's long enough that Dean's abs begin to tighten along with his thighs around his back; heels digging in.

Castiel pulls off. 

Dean grabs the upper hand. In a fluid turn, he flips them again. Castiel is on his back now and it's Dean's turn to give him a predatory once-over. He knows he's driving the man wild. Castiel seems to like it when he's noisy, and Dean takes full advantage. The scent of rain is exploding with lightening, making Dean's whole body crave the storm. He comes close to tearing the condom in his haste to unwrap it, but gets the job done, unrolling it over Castiel's dick with a kind of wonder at being able to touch him like this again. It's a hell of a blessing. Even bigger when Castiel gasps at the contact. Dean picks up the bottle of slick, coats his hand, and gives Castiel several rough pumps until the other alpha is writhing under him and saying his name with so much unholy desire that there's no choice left but to give in.

With a sob of longing, Castiel reaches up and grabs Dean's face. "Please," he moans.

Dean takes both of Castiel's hands, kisses his palms, entwines their fingers, and then pins them against the mattress, folded at the elbows on either side of Castiel's head. Stormy blue eyes open as Dean raises himself up. "I won't be gentle," he promises.

They both moan as Dean seats himself with a practiced thrust, confident as Castiel's dick fills him. Fuck it's been so long. It burns for a second, but his body remembers how to relax easily, welcoming the invasion and settled by the other alpha's grounding pheromones. They both want this. It's etched into every movement, all the shifting scents as they draw out the pleasure. Dean's never been more sure of anything than he's sure of wanting to do this forever.

He also does as he promised, pushing up onto his knees and dropping down in short, hard thrusts. Castiel - angel that he is - picks up the harsh rhythm in no time like he was made to do it. He fucks up into Dean with abandon, knowing that Dean will meet him move for move. Because he will. Always.

He can't let his hindbrain take over completely because they're not going to mate. Not yet. He wants to bite. _Badly_. He wants Castiel's knot in him. One's more permanent than the other, and his mind is just clear enough for him to mumble, "your knot. I fucking want it, Cas."

"Can you-?" Castiel breaks off with a growl when Dean abruptly shifts the pace to a grind. He's barely moving at all, rolling Castiel's full length inside of him, adding pressure points in a undulating pattern around Castiel's growing knot.

"I can. I can take it. Give it to me, alpha," he commands, baring his teeth. He releases Castiel's right hand, and it immediately goes to his knot, squeezing rhythmically. It's insanely good. Blood rushes to it, growing it with every roll of hips forcing Castiel's dick inside him against his prostate. He throws his head back, feeling sweat roll down his forehead. He's going to come.

Castiel first, though. His body tenses hard and Dean bears down. He can feel Castiel's dick pulse, his knot growing. 

Dean sucks in several gasping breaths. He's released both of Castiel's hands in favor of pressing on his shoulders. The knot inside him stretches him impossibly. It burns exquisitely. The sensation combined with Castiel's calloused fingers teasing his knot desperately throws him over the edge in seconds. He comes so forcefully that it drives him dangerously close to blacking out. He slams his eyes shut, riding on the high of true relief.

Castiel is chanting his name over and over, milking Dean's dick for every drop of come. Dean responds by clenching and releasing. They pull several demi-orgasms out of each other until it's too much. Dean's face feels wet with more than just sweat. His hands are cramped against Castiel's shoulders. He gradually he lets go of the pressure.

"Dean." His voice is truly wrecked.

"Cas," Dean answers distantly. 

Neither of them says anything further. It's perfect like this. The room is filled with the scent of deep woods and rain storms. It's beyond words. The knot inside him makes Dean feel more at peace than he's been since he'd moved here.

Time passes like molasses while they're joined. The alpha afterglow is one of Dean's favorite things. Everything's fuzzy around the edges. Light. He's drunk without the alcohol. He can't open his eyes yet, but he smiles when Castiel's fingers paint aimless patterns over his skin. He returns the favor in kind.

After a while, Castiel whispers, "Dean," and he's finally able to open his eyes.

"Hey."

Castiel chuckles. "That was intense."

"Was awesome."

"You okay?"

He squints down. "Dude."

They both laugh. Their knots begin to fade and Dean slips off of Castiel's lap, careful to secure the condom and dispose of it in the trash next to the bed.

Castiel sighs. "We need to bathe."

Dean ignores that and curls against the other alpha's side. "Wanna kiss you."

It's slow, lazy, sated. Neither of them move to leave the bed. There's no rush to wash off the intertwined musky scents. Not yet.

xxXXxx

True to Castiel's earlier prediction, Claire sleeps long enough for the alphas to bathe and dress before she wakes and demands dinner loudly over the baby monitor. She's thrilled that Dean's still there, beside herself when he's the one to make her chicken and rice drowned in soy sauce to go with her nighttime dose of cold medicine and antibiotics.

They both bathe her after she spills half of her rice and soy sauce down her shirt and grinds it into her hair. And she takes advantage afterwards by running down the hall naked, the adults giving chase all the way to her bedroom where she tosses her pants at Castiel, her shirt at Dean. 

It takes quite the impressive wrestling match to get her dressed, but soon enough they're back in her bathroom. Castiel refills the humidifier while Dean helps Claire brush her teeth. 

Back in the bedroom, Claire takes both their hands, guiding them to her bed to sit next to each other and then she perches on top of them with her favorite book. After two stories, she falls asleep again, snoring across the alphas' legs.

Dean kisses Claire's forehead and tucks her in. Castiel's heart leaps. "Stay the night," he says.

Dean straightens up and kisses Castiel on the mouth. "You gonna give me a choice?"

"Not if Claire didn't."

"Touche."

Castiel's mattress is so much better, anyway.

They're not very tired, but Castiel turns on the news at a low volume and they both half-watch while holding hands and trying to figure out the next step.

Dean hates watching the news, so his mind wanders. He's surprised at how easily he's slid into Castiel's home. Bed. Life. Shouldn't it be more difficult? It hadn't been with Benny, but he was the first. They'd flowed together naturally and everything had sort of just happened. It wasn't like they'd gone along blindly, but it _had_ been easy. 

Gradually, Dean realizes that he's still somewhat hung up on the whole second mate thing. It's not at all true, but it's in the back of his mind like a habit he's trying to break. Which it is.

Castiel's knuckles brush along his cheekbone. "Dean?"

Dean's eyes track over to Castiel. His gaze is open affection. 

But there must be something in his own expression because Castiel's forehead creases slightly with worry. "What are you thinking about?"

"Benny," Dean blurts. "Benny had cancer. Lymphoma. He fought it for five years. But they'd caught it too late."

"You don't have to..."

He barrels on like he hadn't heard Castiel. "I kept hoping for a miracle that never came." He's grateful that Castiel catches on quickly and nods in silence. "Benny knew he wasn't going to make it long. He took the chemo for my sake and to get his affairs in order. That's it. But even when he struggled to hang on for me, I couldn't let him go when I was supposed to. We'd had a deal. But I..."

Castiel presses his thumbs into Dean's palms briefly, bringing him back to focus before resuming his gentle massage. "Oh, Dean. I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head helplessly. On one hand, he doesn't want Castiel's pity, but on the other hand, the fact that he has it helps ease the ache. "It was like, that _one_ thing, right? The very last thing he ever asked of me. It was the most important. And it was the one thing I couldn't give him because I was too damn selfish."

They're both quiet for a few minutes, letting the words sink into them. Castiel knows that Dean wants him to say something. He's not sure _what_ the man wants him to say, but he thinks over all of his options. All of the ways that he could approach the situation.When he takes a breath, Dean looks expectant.

"I'm not sure if this is what you need to hear or not, but I don't think that you were completely selfish."

"You just being nice?" The question is brittle.

"No," Castiel answers. "I'm actually being clinical. I've seen a lot of death, Dean. I've seen a lot of _preparing_ for death. And one thing that I've noticed is that nothing we say or do keeps a soul on this planet for longer than it wants to stay."

"I don't know that I believe in souls and Heaven and all of that."

"You don't have to," Castiel answers. "Benny let go when he was ready."

Dean's got to kiss Castiel. So he does. Thoroughly. Castiel allows him to lead it to its conclusion, and when they move apart, Castiel is smiling at him with a new kind of affection and acceptance that Dean could bury himself in.

"I'm sorry for ruining the moment," Dean murmurs.

"You can't ruin the news," Castiel answers. "It does that just fine on its own."

Dean laughs shortly. "Guess you're right."

"Amelia died in a car accident," Castiel says. It hurts him a little the way that Dean's eyes widen with sympathy. But he needs to know the story. He needs to know it in order to know _him_. He touches Dean's full lips and drops his hand to his lap. Dean takes it in his. "It was sudden."

"Shit, that's awful," Dean breathes.

It is.

"She was going to my parents' house after work. It was rare, but sometimes we both had to work late. I was on an overnight, so I wasn't due to get off until six in the morning. I remember... I was just starting to get tired."

Dean strokes his thumb over the back of Castiel's hand. "Did you have to...?"

He shakes his head. "Almost. Ten minutes before, a man came in. He'd had a heart attack and I was treating him until we could stabilize him for imaging. If he hadn't come in..." He shakes his head. "It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. She died at the scene. They worked on her until the very end, though. I was grateful."

Both of them are studying their joined hands. "I'm so sorry, Cas. I was whining about taking too much time to say goodbye, and you never even got the chance."

He shrugs. "I did at her funeral. I talk to her all the time. It's strange... but I think I knew the second she died. I could feel something change in the bond. I know most people say it's impossible, but when they brought Amelia in, I wasn't completely surprised."

"I'm glad you have faith," Dean says after a minute. "I'm glad you're able to talk to her."

Castiel's got to kiss Dean. This time he leads and Dean allows and it's a balm on his soul.

Dean's expression afterwards makes him completely certain of one thing. "I'm falling in love with you," he says.

"Good, 'cause I'm falling in love with you, too," Dean answers.

Even the late news doesn't seem so doom and gloom now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun to write!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean helps out with Claire. Sam and Gabriel reach a new level of their relationship.

Dean can't remember waking up in a stranger way. He wracks his brain, but he really can't. Not even some of those drunken nights in college. Not even with Rhonda Hurley.

Castiel and Claire are sitting on the bed cross legged. They're completely sleep-rumpled, hair sticking up in all directions. Claire is staring at Dean while she drinks Pedialyte from a pink Hello Kitty sippy cup. Castiel is staring at Dean while he drinks coffee from the bright yellow bee mug that Dean got him for Christmas.

"What the he...uh... _heck_ are you two doing?"

"Talking about you," Castiel answers mildly.

Of course they are. With a quick grin, Dean pushes up onto his elbows. "You got nothing better to do?"

Taking another sip of coffee, Castiel shrugs. "Sick day."

Claire shrugs. "Sick day."

He considers that. Fair enough. "Sounds good to me. Hey, Cas, did my cell phone make it in here last night?"

"Yes." Castiel reaches to his nightstand and unplugs it from the charger.

Dean takes it and scrolls through his contacts. Presses the phone to his ear and waits. "Hey, Garth," he says brightly. "Yeah, man. Listen, I'll get the rest of the lake set up for fishing on time, but I gotta take a sick day... yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's Claire... yeah-no, _Claire_. No, she's not mine, she's two. I'll check in later. Call if you need me." He hangs up.

Claire and Castiel are still staring at him. This time with wide eyes.

"What?" Dean demands, feeling his face heat.

"Play date?" Claire asks hopefully.

"All yours today, Claire-bear." He spreads his arms. Claire squeals and jumps into them, smacking her sticky fingers all over his borrowed pajamas.

"Dean, you don't have to-"

"Cas," Dean cuts him off. "I will never let you finish that sentence any time you say it in front of me for the rest of your life. Quit trying and go do something useful, like bringing me some of that coffee."

"Bananas!" Claire adds.

"Bananas are pretty awesome," Dean agrees.

Having no viable argument, Castiel sets his mug on the end table and slides out of the bed, all the while giving Dean one of his unreadable looks. "Be right back," he says.

"So, what are we doing today?" Dean asks, dragging Claire up towards the headboard and tucking her under his arm.

"As little as possible," Castiel says authoritatively from the doorway. He picks up the TV remote and tosses to Dean. "Antibiotics usually make you feel worse before they make you feel better, so I want Claire to rest as much as possible for now."

"Easy done," Dean grins, clicking to the apps. "Netflix morning marathon sound good, Claire?"

Dean and Claire's voices follow Castiel into the hallway.

"PEEP!" Claire demands.

"Sold," Dean answers. "Sit close, your hands are freezing. You need to keep warm."

It's pretty damn surreal, Castiel muses as he walks to the kitchen. Hearing Dean talk to his daughter and turn her shows on the TV. It's effortlessly domestic. Honestly, Castiel thought that it would have taken longer for Dean to warm up to Claire and vice versa. But it seems like Claire had known what was going on before her father had. She'd _known_. Her brain isn't developed enough for her process pheromones properly, but children of single parents - even as young as Claire - often do respond to potential mates for their parents just as they would have if a bond had already been formed. Castiel's heard of it happening before, but since he'd never witnessed it first hand, he'd had no idea how pronounced it would be He enjoys it, though. It makes pursuing a relationship that much simpler.

He contemplates all of it as he pours the coffee and toasts some bagels, grabs the cream cheese. Oh, and the bananas. He puts it all on a lap tray to take back to the bedroom. Breakfast in bed should probably be more romantic, but beggars can't be choosers at this point.

When he returns to the room, still a little dazed, there's Dean shouting at the TV and flapping his arms with Claire. "Fly, Chirp!" they yell.

"Breakfast," Castiel says distractedly. He brings the tray around to Dean's side of the bed and places it over his lap.

Dean grabs the front of Castiel's pajama top and yanks him down for a kiss. Castiel barely responds, but Dean doesn't care. He kind of adores the stunned look on the man's face. It's even better with Claire making kissing noises. Dean plants a sloppy kiss on her forehead after letting Castiel go. Then he lathers the bagel in cream cheese. "Thanks for the breakfast," he says.

Castiel nods. "You're welcome." 

Castiel can't help watching Dean while he eats once he's settled back in on the other side of the bed. It dawns on him that Dean lied about the banana. He doesn't eat it himself, only breaking off bite sized pieces for Claire when she holds her hand out for them. 

"Do you like kids?" Castiel asks suddenly. He feels a little foolish right after for asking, but then thinks that Dean might just like Claire because of him. It's not necessarily a dealbreaker since he treats her respectfully, but it worries him a little what will happen when the novelty of all of this wears off.

"'Course I do," Dean answers in a way that makes it seem like he didn't find the question strange at all. "Kids are awesome. They're like adults without all the bullshit that makes us jaded." 

He slaps a hand over his mouth at the same time Castiel gives him a sharp look and warns, "or their language."

"Sorry," Dean mumbles sheepishly. "I'm not used to it yet."

Castiel smiles. "There are worse things. But when she starts saying bad words, I'll know who to blame."

"I'll work on it," he promises. "But, yeah. Kids are straightforward and fun. I like most of them."

There's no deception in Dean. Not in scent or demeanor. It's all assured alpha affection. It sinks into Castiel's bones. "Did you ever think about having kids of your own? I know you couldn't the natural way, but..."

Dean arches an eyebrow. "You don't need to go fishing with me, Cas."

"I'm not," Castiel assures him. He is, a little. "I was just wondering."

"Supposed you should since you've got one." He grins.

Castiel doesn't deserve him. 

But it _does_ turn out that he needs him. 

It's nearing lunch time when Castiel starts to cough and clear his throat. Claire takes her next dose of cold medicine and antibiotics and goes down for a long nap. Shortly after that, Castiel begins to sneeze every now and then.

"Dude," Dean says warningly.

"I'm fine," Castiel answers, opening a new box of tissues.

"You said Claire had a cold and that's what turned into a sinus and ear infection. You caught her cold."

"It's not that serious."

Dean plants both his hands on Castiel's shoulder blades, pushing him towards the sofa. "They can be. And if you wanna take care of your daughter properly, you gotta rest, too. Come on, I'll make you tea. Honey and lemon, right?"

"You don't-"

"Swear to God with that sentence, Cas. Shut up and let me take care of you."

The thing is, Castiel isn't really good at that. Never has been. It has to be a combination of the doctor and the alpha in him. Most alphas balk at being babied. Most doctors make terrible patients. It's a perfect storm. Though, with Dean... the man's also an alpha, so he knows how far he can push. It's actually fairly enlightening to watch. Dean brings him a soft blanket from the linen closet, but doesn't put it over him. He simply offers it out. He lets Castiel put in his own honey and lemon into the camomile tea. He gives Castiel control of the TV remote. He puts the adult cold medicine on the coffee table, but doesn't say anything about Castiel taking any.

Three hours later, Claire wakes up from her nap, and Castiel is about an hour into his. Dean doesn't wake him up since he's at least migrated to the bed. He trots up to Claire's room with a cup of apple juice because she's always thirsty when she wakes up.

"Hey, kiddo, how are you feeling?"

"Good," Claire says, taking the offered cup. 

"We're gonna have to be quiet, okay? Your daddy caught a cold, too, so he's sleeping right now."

Claire frowns at him seriously. "Daddy?"

He sits down next to her. "Yeah. I'll watch out for you and everything, but your daddy needs rest so he can get better, too, okay? You cool hanging out with just me for a while?"

Chugging from her sippy cup, Claire raises her fist in answer. Dean bumps it. 

"Wanna make cookies?"

That gets her out of bed with a quickness and they're at the stairs before Dean catches up and reminds her that they need to be quiet. She's actually a pretty decent ninja when Dean tiptoes with her.

An hour later, the kitchen is destroyed. Dean decides that the safer option is a cookie cake rather than spending the time to scoop each individual one. Claire doesn't have the patience for it, anyway, besides needing to get everything cleaned up so that Dean can start preparing for dinner. Claire helps to load the unbreakable dishes into the dishwasher. 

They're having so much fun that they don't even notice Castiel until a raspy voice asks from the doorway, "what all happened in here?"

"Cookies," Claire says.

Castiel arches an eyebrow. "Sounds fun."

"You okay?" Dean asks over his shoulder, still rinsing the mixing bowls.

"I'll live," he coughs. "Just needed to check in. I didn't mean to sleep so much. How long was it?" He squints over at the clock on the microwave.

"'Bout two hours," Dean says.

Castiel shuffles over. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I abandoned you to take care of Claire and everything. You should have woken me. I could call my family to help. This isn't your responsibility." He stops short when Dean swings around to face him. His expression is neutral, but there's a burst of sour, rotting wood cloying the air.

"Ew," Claire gripes.

"Sorry," Dean mutters.

Castiel's heart sinks. He's seriously stuck his foot in his mouth. He's not entirely sure how, but he knows he needs to fix it. Obviously, Dean is trying to make it look like nothing's wrong, but at this stage in their relationship, secrets aren't very easy to keep since they're hyper-aware of each other's scents. So much so that a clogged nose doesn't even prevent the off smell from hitting him. "Claire," he says, not looking away from Dean, "would you sit here at the table and color for a little while? Listen for the cookie timer? I need to speak to Dean for a minute."

"Yes," Claire says gamely. They've already set up crafts on the table, so she climbs up into her booster seat and pulls the box of crayons and coloring book towards her.

Castiel tilts his head and Dean follows him into the living room. Once they're out of earshot, Castiel turns and says, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry."

"You didn't," Dean answers neutrally.

But that's not true at all. "Was it me telling you to call my family? I didn't mean to suggest that you weren't capable of watching out for Claire. It wasn't that." He's got more to say, but then he's sneezing and coughing again so much that it makes him a little dizzy. He grabs the box of tissues, covering his mouth and nose until he's settled again, eyes watering.

"I'm not really mad at you, Cas," Dean says gently. "I'm not. It's just..." He glances around the room. Looks back at Castiel. Shrugs. "I want to help."

"You are." He is. So much. More than anyone should have to.

Dean shifts from foot to foot. Castiel is having a hard time smelling anything after that last fit, but his brain is still processing the pheromones. He can _feel_ Dean's anxiety and uncertainty. "Say what you want to say. You're not overstepping, no matter what it is."

Dean's eyes flick up to meet his. His shoulders loosen minutely. "You sure?"

His nod of certainty loses some authority when he has another sneezing jag. This time, though, Dean is there with the tissues and a small bottle of hand sanitizer which he makes Castiel use before taking his hands. Castiel is learning quickly that physical touch is incredibly important to Dean when he's dealing with emotions. "I'm sure. Please, Dean. All I want is honesty. What made you so angry?"

"It didn't really make me _angry_. More like... disappointed? You said it wasn't my responsibility."

Oh. _Oh_. "Well, it's not. But... do... do you want it to be?"

"Yes," Dean breathes explosively. He shifts a step closer. "Cas, you and I are together now. We haven't been on a lot of dates, or anything. We've only slept together once. But... man, we're _together_ , together. I can help when you need it, and I want to. I want you to feel comfortable asking. I want to get to know Claire. I want to be here for the good stuff _and_ the bad stuff. I'm... man, I'm just jealous. I wanna get to the place where you don't call your fucking brother before me. And if you're not there yet, that's cool; I get it. It's a lot to trust someone with your kid. But don't tell me it's not my responsibility and you're sorry for taking my time. I'm here 'cause I wanna be. That ain't changing."

How can Dean possibly be so _much_ of good man? "I can get there," he promises. "Dean, you're..." Once again, the proper words fail him, so he kisses Dean, then pulls back quickly. "I'm sorry! You really will catch this cold."

"Doesn't matter," Dean grins. "I had my mouth in so many places last night that if I'm not infected now, I won't be."

Being so pale from sickness, Castiel's flush stands out more than normal. It makes Dean laugh. "Don't worry about me, all right? I'm good with all of this. I promise."

"Thank you, Dean." He's not sure there's enough sincerity in the world.

But Dean just beams at him. "No problem. Now, why don't you go sit down and color with Claire and I'll make us a healthy dinner. Or close to it. Ugh, just saying that made my skin crawl."

Castiel laughs and coughs as he follows Dean back into the kitchen and sits down with Claire. He watches as Dean opens all the cabinets and the fridge and freezer to get an idea of the food in the house. They are going to make it. He's sure of it.

xxXXxx

"Cassie isn't answering his phone."

"Neither is Dean." Sam makes room for Gabriel to slide into the bed with an entire box of cookies. He shakes his head at the man's unhealthy sweet tooth, but he can't possibly say anything against it. Except for, "what are you, pregnant? Don't get crumbs in the bed again."

"We _have_ been having a lot of sex." Gabriel gives him a teasing kiss that tastes like dark chocolate. Which is really nice with caramel apples pheromones, so Sam delves further into it. It's amazing. He'd never known what he'd been missing with a potential mate until Gabriel. He'd dated plenty of people before; omegas included, but despite his caustic personality, Gabriel has brought a... softness to his home since he'd been welcomed in. Sam hadn't fully noticed it at first on a conscious level. He'd walk in the door sometimes after giving the omega the key to his house and instantly feel relaxed. Not just being greeted in the entryway by a ridiculous man in a ridiculously frilly apron. The mingled scents of their pheromones had softened the edges to all of the alpha aggression to make it feel complete. 

Sam knows what it is now. He'd figured it out when Gabriel had invited him to dinner at the B&B. Sam had spent the night, and when he'd returned to the bedroom after breakfast, after being in rooms his scent hadn't filled, he'd felt the peace reentering the shared space. The puzzle pieces had come together.

Gabriel flips channels and eats his cookies.

Sam keeps his eyes on his laptop screen, finishing paperwork he'd brought home. Staying at the station late doesn't have the same appeal as it used to. "I want you to stay in Halcyon," he says.

"I'd planned on it," Gabriel answers flippantly, still focused on a game show.

Gently, Sam takes the remote from Gabriel's hand and puts his laptop aside. He mutes the television and that gets the omega's full attention. "I mean I want you to stay with me. Like, forever."

Gabriel's reaction is immediate. His scent turns milky and he grins widely. "You gonna make an honest girl outta me?"

"Yes," Sam says simply. He's not impulsive. He's always had a plan for everything. But, this is Gabriel. It might be reckless, but it's also a sure thing. Gabriel would never let him down. "I don't know if you were joking a few weeks ago when you saved Cas and Dean's asses from our families, but I've been thinking about it. I'm serious about you. I want you to stay here with me and move in here and marry me and all that shit."

"Sure," Gabriel answers. He swipes the remote back, not turning the volume up yet. He's still grinning and his face is beet red.

Sam can't help smiling back. "Marry me, Gabe."

"Yeah, _okay_. Now shut up, you're embarrassing yourself."

"Says the man with the cute blush."

Gabriel tosses the cookies and the remote aside, getting crumbs all over the comforter. He spends several minutes making Sam breathless, then sits up on his haunches, bracing his hands on Sam's chest. "That's taken care of to your liking?"

Sam nods, dazed. 

"Good. Time to gossip."

Sam narrows his eyes, collecting himself quickly. "Leave those two alone."

"I can't. They're idiots. Maybe we haven't heard from them because they've killed each other."

"Unlikely," Sam muses, running his hands up and down Gabriel's bare arms. "They've changed with each other. They're gonna mate one day, hardcore."

Gabriel pushes his bottom lip out thoughtfully. "Sure, fine, if you say so, but can't we do _something_? They deserve to be fucked with."

"Pretty sure they've got that covered."

Gabriel whacks him with the decorative pillow. "You disgust me. I love you."

"Love you, too. Look, let's go crash their party in, say, two hours or so."

Gabriel gives him an arch, teasing look. "That all you got for me?"

"We need a break for dinner."

Gabriel barks a laugh. "You're too good for me, Winchester." 

"Back at you, Novak."

They don't make it to Castiel's house that night, but they each vow to text their brothers as soon as possible.

xxXXxx

"Your phone keeps buzzing," Dean mumbles from his pillow.

"It's Gabriel," Castiel rasps, wiping his nose and tossing the tissue in the direction of the trash can. "He's been texting most of the morning. Probably worried about me."

"What for?" Dean rolls towards him and slings his arm across Castiel's chest.

"He's a nag."

Dean chuckles tiredly. It's been too long of a day to deal with family.

"Your phone is buzzing now, too."

"It's Sam again."

Castiel's small laugh rattles in his chest. "They're conspiring. Maybe we should tell them we're alive. Appease them."

"No way," Dean protests. "Radio silence."

Castiel cracks an eye open. "What for? They'll just descend on us later."

"No shit. And they'll probably bring breakfast. Neither of us will have to cook. Boom. Battle won."

"You're a mastermind, Dean Winchester."

"I know. Go to sleep, sicky. You're losing your voice."

Finally accepting that Dean's not going to follow the proper protocol to keep himself from getting sick, too, Castiel buries himself against the man's side, soaking in his warmth and happy camp fire scent. "You're too good for me," he whispers.

Dean turns his head and plants a kiss on Castiel's temple. "Right back 'atcha. Night, Cas."

xxXXxx

"I'm not answering the door," Castiel says.

"Me, either," Dean groans.

"I'm sick."

"It's your brother."

"Probably yours, too."

"It's your house."

Castiel lifts his hands.

"You don't wanna play this game with me." 

"Count of three."

Dean exhaustedly lifts his hands as well. His rock loses to Castiel's paper and he growls, kisses Castiel brief and hard, and throws back the covers. He grabs Castiel's robe off the back of the door and shuffles to the front door. He opens it and gives the brothers his best fuck-off-and-die glare.

Gabriel holds up two paper bags and Sam holds up a coffee carrier. "Breakfast!"

"Get inside, you unholy assholes." He moves out of the way, yawning widely.

"What gives?" Gabriel asks, scenting the air. "Wow. Did you two fight? Smells like distress and makeup sex."

Sam jabs the omega in his side. "That's personal, Gabe," he admonishes.

Dean snorts. "Cas caught Claire's cold. I stayed to take care of them. No fighting. Just some general misery going around." He leads the way to the kitchen, not bothering to turn around. He can feel the pair behind him and they smell like they're deep in the middle of the best mystery of all time with the curiosity pouring off of them. Of course, Dean knows his own brother well enough to be certain that the man is seriously holding himself back from a hundred questions. The again, Sam also knows Dean, and knows Dean's less likely to say anything before he's awake enough to not want to punch something. 

Castiel responds to the commotion a minute later. He looks pathetic with his red nose and watery eyes. "Good morning, Sam. It's nice to see you again. However, it's early and I know you both are up to something, so if you catch my cold, I won't blame myself." He sides the baby monitor onto the table as he collapses into a chair.

"Not very doctor-ly of you," Gabriel chirps, sitting across from him and opening the bags to take out an assortment of bagels, toppings, and doughnuts. Sam offers up the coffee.

"See me during office hours," Castiel deadpans, grabbing a bagel and coffee. He removes the top and loads it up with sugar just so that he can actually taste it.

They're about to begin eating when Claire's hoarse voice yells through the baby monitor. _"DADDY! DEEDEE!"_

All four men stand. "Seriously?" Dean says.

Sam shrugs. "We'll go."

Intrigued, Dean sits back down, sharing a look with Castiel. Castiel turns off the baby monitor, plunks it down on the center of the table, and makes a sweeping gesture to his brother., "Change her clothes, please. The fever makes her sweat."

"On it," Gabriel says. He and Sam leave the room.

Dean waits until they're gone and says, "I don't think Sam's changed a diaper in his life. I was kinda under the impression he didn't care for kids all that much. Something's going on with them."

"That's why we're spying," Castiel answers, turning the baby monitor back on just as Sam and Gabriel greet Claire. "They won't think we're listening."

At first it's totally normal. Castiel and Dean eat their breakfast while listening to Sam and Gabriel going through Claire's morning routine. Clearly Sam takes directions well because soon enough the commotion stops and Gabriel tells Claire to go to the kitchen. Little footsteps leave the room, and Sam and Gabriel are left alone cleaning up.

_"What do you think?"_ Gabriel asks. _"Not so scary, right?"_

Thoughtfully, Sam answers, _"No, it's... it was okay, I guess. It's just... I've never even thought about kids before, Gabe. Can you give me some time to consider it? I'm not-! Hey, I'm not saying no. Don't smell like that. I'm just saying let me get used to the idea. Raising a kid with you would be amazing. I only need a little time. Maybe practice."_

Claire crashes into the kitchen, and runs straight to her father, who gets up slowly to fix her milk and a bagel while Dean sits at the table, impossibly shell-shocked. He turns off the monitor again when he hears more rustling and then the door shutting. "Wow," he breathes.

Castiel holds Claire against his hip as he turns to face Dean, a small, affectionate smile touching his lips. "They were serious."

"Yeah." He leans back in his chair, contemplative. Good for them, though. He's not unhappy about any of it. Gabriel grates on his nerves, personally, but he's not a bad guy. And he wants to make a life with Sam. A home. A whole entire future. If he's anything like his brother - which he is in some ways - that commitment will be awesome for the both of them. "You think they're already-?" He swallows the rest of the question when their brothers re-enter the kitchen, but Dean can see Castiel still trying to get an answer. He sets Claire in her booster seat, and then maneuvers himself around the table the long way, eyeing Gabriel's neck the whole time. It's so unstealthily stealthy that Dean snorts a laugh into his paper coffee cup. There's no way Castiel would have been able to play off his curiosity if either Sam or Gabriel had known they'd been heard.

Castiel shakes his head once at Dean as he takes his seat. Interesting. So, engaged but not mated. Scent bonded, for sure. But it's so new that neither Dean nor Castiel are familiar enough with the scent that they can tell if it's changed to something more profound. Either way, it's certainly intriguing.

Sam even watches closely as Castiel measures out Claire's medication and hands it to her to drink. He's _studying_. Carefully. He's got the same look on his face as he did in school while hitting the books before finals. _What a nerd_.

"What's on the docket for you guys today?" Dean asks casually. Castiel shoots him a warning look. Dean pretends not to notice. 

"I've got the afternoon shift," Sam answers. "Only the one, though, so I'll be home late."

Gabriel grabs two doughnuts and says, "Cassie, the B&B's soft opening is Saturday. You gonna be well enough to go?"

Pertinent question when Castiel has another sneezing and coughing fit that concerns Claire enough to abandon her food in order to pat her father hard on the back. "I'll be fine by the weekend," Castiel croaks.

Gabriel laughs. "Fine. You should be there, too, Dean-o," he continues. "The fam wants to get a better look at you, and who am I to turn them down?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'll go, but I ain't polite enough to let them ambush me."

"Hey, I literally just gave you a heads up!" Gabriel places his hand over his heart, the picture of scandalized. "Don't say I never did nothing for you."

"You haven't," Dean quips back, mouth full of blueberry bagel.

"Come on, Dean," Sam pleads lightly.

Dean gives his brother a playful kick under the table. "Kidding. I'll be nice." Only because he's expecting some announcement from them, especially with the way that his little brother started squirming the second Gabriel mentioned the opening. Sometimes he thinks Sam doesn't know how suspicious he acts. The thought of his brother settling down fills Dean with fierce pride. Not that he'd say anything and give his brother that kind of ammo on him, but it's true all the same. _Something's_ on the horizon, though.

Whatever it is, Dean's positive that they're in for an entertaining evening. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me longer to write this than intended. As an apology, it's a longer chapter. I hope y'all enjoyed it!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _This chapter is NSFW_  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> Castiel and Claire recover before Gabriel's B&B opening party. Sam makes a decision.

Castiel isn't feeling better by any means come bed time, but he still insists that Dean go home to get some real rest. He agrees, grudgingly. He _does_ need to test the lake again after the slightly warmer than average days. It doesn't stop him from worrying, though. He's a worrier.

Castiel walks Dean to the front door and holds out his scarf and coat. "Thank you for everything," he says. His voice is almost completely gone now.

"Cas, I really think I should stay." He pulls on his coat, but he hopes that Castiel will relent and tell him to hang it back up.

"You've stayed for long enough. I really will be fine. It's just a cold."

Dean kisses him anyway. "You call me if you need anything, or if Claire needs anything. You understand me? I'm serious. I'll be here in a second."

"I know. I appreciate it. I promise I won't push myself. I rebound quickly. After a good night's sleep, I'll be much better."

That appeases him, somewhat. But he still allows himself some petulance as he leans forward and plops his forehead on Castiel's shoulder, planting a small kiss on his neck. "It's really hard to leave right now, man. I don't think my hormones want me to."

That makes Castiel smile. "That means a lot to me."

Dean hums against him and doesn't move. He starts to chuckle. Castiel coughs a laugh. Dean turns his face further into the man's neck. "You're gonna have to push me out the door. I'm stuck here."

Laughing in earnest now, Castiel reaches around Dean, who is still superglued to him, opens the door and walks forward using his body weight to shove Dean over the threshold. Dean gnaws on his shoulder the whole way as Castiel continues to laugh and cough his way to the edge of the porch stairs. "Go, Dean. You have work to do."

"Don't wanna," Dean whines.

Castiel steps back and cups Dean's face. "Think about this, then. If you don't go to work, how will you provide for us?"

With a small growl in the back of his throat, Dean glares at Castiel. The worst part of being with another alpha is how they almost always know how to manipulate each other. Castiel's statement gets him right in his protective instincts. "Low blow," he says.

Castiel kisses him. "You told me to make you leave."

It _was_ an effective tactic. "Fine. I'll leave and be a decent enough of a person to not point out that you make so much more money than I do."

"That's the spirit."

Dean steps down the stairs, then turns on his heel to face Castiel. "Take care of yourself. Get lots of rest."

"I promise. Have a good night, Dean."

"See ya later, Cas."

It's so hard for Dean to leave. It's like his legs are cinder blocks as he makes his way to the driveway and the neglected Impala. He wants nothing more than to take care of his mate and his daughter until they're both perfectly well. Alphas need to provide. Give comfort. Protect. And though Castiel is also an alpha, the instincts don't change. Just the results sometimes. Alphas often balk at being treated carefully by anyone except their bondmates. And Dean realizes that Castiel is able to care for himself and his child no matter what. He's a doctor. It's just difficult to leave regardless of that when his instincts want nothing more than to never be away from Castiel's side again.

But Castiel's also in the same situation. He physically wills himself to go back into the house. He tells himself he's being foolish. Childish. Dean's not really going anywhere. The town is small; they'll see each other again soon even if they don't plan it. The ranger station is close to the clinic. Even if push comes to shove, they'll see each other again on Saturday for the soft opening. It'll be fine. 

He's only able to actually shut the door and walk away from it when he realizes how much heat he's letting out of the house. Even so, he relaxes easily into his bed thanks to Dean's scent still being heavy in the sheets. A part of him stubbornly wishes to never change them, though he really should in the morning after sweating out his fever, which he's sure that he'll do. 

Laying on his back staring at the ceiling isn't getting him to sleep, but that's about all he can do for the time being. He misses Dean already. It had been easy to lose himself in domestic bliss when he was at his sickest. Easy to convince himself that letting his guard down had been less of a conscious decision and more simple exhaustion. 

Then he hates himself for trying to make an excuse about it when he shouldn't have. They had decided that they were going to be together. They were in a relationship. They were moving forward; probably towards mating. He didn't have to _pretend_ like it didn't suck when Dean left. Watching Dean walk away sucks, even if it's for a good reason. It's the best and worst part of working towards a bond. It's not there yet, and can't be; it's not time. However, that just means his body cries mutiny when it thinks it might not have that closeness again. It's an inconvenient biological quirk. They'll manage it. And perhaps this time, it'll be the last time they ever have to. Ultimately, that's what Castiel hopes for.

xxXXxx

In order to let Castiel recover fully and take care of his daughter, Dean keeps his distance. They text and call, though the run to the weekend isn't so bad. Dean's having fun fucking with his little brother about Gabriel, anyway.

"So," Dean says casually, kicking back on Sam's couch and flipping channels to the hockey game, "you and Gabe are getting really serious, then?" He expects some embarrassed evasion, but it doesn't come. 

Sam sits down heavily next to him, passing over a large bowl of tortilla chips and salsa along with a beer. "I asked him to marry me."

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. "Are you fucking _kidding_? When the hell did this happen?" He smacks Sam on the shoulder, and not lightly.

Grinning, Sam shrugs. "Few nights ago. It just... I wanna be with him forever. He's my mate, and I know it. So, I figured I'd go for it."

"That's..." Dean doesn't know what to say about it. He's happy, of course, that's the first thing. "Sam... hey, don't get all sour and stink up the place; I'm not speechless 'cause you're getting married. I'm just like... you usually plan things out the ass. _Have_ you been? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I haven't been," Sam admits. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, though Dean hasn't even opened his mouth to argue. "Look, I know you probably wanna go all 'big brother, I've been bonded before' lecture, but I do know what I'm doing here. Gabriel and I are meant to be."

Smirking, Dean tips his shoulder up. "Wasn't gonna lecture you. When you know, you know."

Sam's expression is surprised by the easy acceptance, but his scent is pleased. "Thanks."

"So, do I have to keep this thing a secret, or are you and Gabe gonna tell the world soon?"

Picking at the beer label with his nail, Sam says, "we were planning on telling everyone at the opening on Saturday. Since you'll be there, too, it seemed like the best time. Make a party out of it, or something."

"Congrats," Dean answers. They clink their beer bottles together in cheers and turn their attention over to the game. Dean pays it less attention than Sam. Lots of things changing in their lives. All for the better. It ain't so bad. And if he and Castiel decide to tie the knot, well, that'll be a pretty strong family all together. He'd been fully prepared to remain single and somewhat lonely in the middle of nowhere when he'd first arrived in Halcyon, but something about the small town they'd chosen was fate. If he believed in that sort of thing. Which he didn't. Most of the time.

xxXXxx

Despite the soon-to-be publically engaged couple, life is oddly normal for the rest of the week. Castiel and Claire recover well enough to have the energy for a party, Dean opens the rest of the lake for skating and fishing, Sam tickets a handful of joyriders going too fast on icy roads, and by Friday, Castiel and Dean are making plans to carpool to the B&B's opening together the following day. Which means that Dean can spend the night over at Castiel's. Which is really the part he cares about.

His shift is over well past Claire's bed time, which is awesome. But it's also late enough that they're both really freaking tired when they finally fall together. He doesn't think that he'll be capable of anything except sleeping, but Dean's energy rallies the second his lips meet Castiel's, and the other alpha comes at him like he's starving once their clothes start coming off. The very scent of his mate makes adrenaline flood his body, prioritizing the needs of his mate over the needs of his own weary body, and Castiel is _ravenous_ for him.

Dean almost can't bring together the two Castiel's he's coming to know. There's the serious, even-tempered doctor, and then there's the _alpha_. The alpha that was made for him, body and soul. "Don't rip my shirt again," he says lightly, shoving Castiel roughly towards the bedroom.

Castiel's chuckle is dirty. "Then stop wearing buttons."

The clothes don't turn out to be too much of a problem as they team up to remove the offending layers on each other. Dean's arousal spikes and he dives into Castiel's neck, right on his gland. The other alpha moans deeply. Blunt fingernails scrape against Dean's back in response. Fuck, he hopes they leave a mark along with the trail of fire against his nerves.

"Want you inside me," Castiel slurs as they tumble onto the mattress.

"Not tonight," Dean gasps. "Too much time. Gotta... _fuck_ , Cas, gotta have you now."

Castiel knows the feeling. He plunges his tongue into Dean's mouth, hurried, messy, hot. He lets his alpha take over, roaring for dominance. And Dean's done the same because suddenly they're both shoving away their boxers, growling against hot skin, biting hard enough to bruise, nails scraping and leaving trails of welted flesh behind. Their lips are nearly bruised by the time they are situated properly on the bed.

Dean's got the upper hand for the moment and shoves Castiel back. He crawls up onto his knees, sliding over Castiel's legs as his mate leans up on his elbows, licking his lips. It's pure, lustful, _strong_ alpha. It's the biggest turn on of his life. "Cas," Dean murmurs.

Castiel leans forward and bends down enough to suck the tip of Dean's aching cock into his mouth. Dean lets loose a noise of frustration and pleasure. He can't take it for long. Besides, Cas had said.. He nearly crumples forward and Castiel releases him with a moan.

"What are you thinking?" Castiel demands in his smoky voice. "I can smell it on you."

"Let's do this together," Dean says. He grabs for the slick still sitting out on the nightstand, turns around, and scoots until his weight rests on his hands, head hovering just over Castiel's dick. 

Castiel gets the message immediately. His large hands take strong grip on Dean's ass, kneading as he shimmies down enough to get a mouthful of Dean's dick. The pheromone explosion on his tongue and in his nose nearly has him coming right then, but that's until Dean steals his focus when his slicked finger circles the cleft of his ass. _Oh, yes. Incredible, yesyesyes_. He bumps his hips up, giving the other alpha plenty of access.

In a dual attack, Dean slips his finger into Castiel's tight hole at the same time he swallows Castiel down to the root.

Castiel cries out, back arching. He pulls a deep breath into his lungs, but it doesn't do a thing to center him. Their hormones blending in the air, concentrated with how close he is to Dean's intimate parts, only makes his alpha more crazed for release. He can already feel his knot drawing blood down to throb slightly. Dean notices. Oh, does he. On every movement down, he tightens his lips over Castiel's knot, milking it. And then Dean's finger twitches inside him and it's a supernova.

"Dean!" Castiel gasps hoarsely. 

Another finger pushes in. Castiel makes a choked sob. But he can't let Dean do everything. Not after he'd demanded they do this _together_. Trying his best to ignore his baser instincts and let his practical human side get a bit of handle on it. It takes a moment, but he's able to concentrate enough to take another mouthful of Dean, massaging his knot for good measure. It's glorious. The more he does, the more fervently Dean adds to his own ministrations.

Castiel thrusts his hips gently, bearing down on Dean's fingers. Every few strokes, he feels the brush against his prostate. He's going to explode.

Not that it matters. Dean will, too. Soon. His knot is growing with each swipe of Castiel's tongue. His pheromones deepen with musk.

When Dean pushes a third finger inside, it's a split-second of too much _everything_. He comes suddenly, bowing off the bed. It whites out his vision and he fears he might pass out. His fingers reflexively tighten around Dean's knot and that seems to be enough to pull the other man over the edge. His come splashes into Castiel's mouth, down his chin, onto his neck. A primal satisfaction knifes through him. And he must lose some time because when he opens his eyes, Dean is repositioned beside him, cleaning his hands with antibacterial wipes. And grinning.

"That didn't last as long as I was going for," Dean says. He holds out some of the wipes.

"I apologize," Castiel smiles back. He takes the wipes and cleans off his mouth and chin. "I'm not sure what came over me."

"I did," Dean winks.

Castiel chuckles. "You're very childish sometimes."

"And yet, here you are, still naked and begging for me."

Castiel chucks the wipes at him. "Don't be crude."

"Sure, fine. Wanna cuddle?" He holds his arms out. His grin widens, eyes sparkling.

Laughing harder, Castiel tackles Dean into the pillows, holding him tightly and kissing him breathless. It goes on for some time until they're both dozing between each meeting of their lips. With the last of their energy, they pull on their boxers and then fall together again. It's a good night. One of the best.

xxXXxx

Dean wakes up with a mouthful of Claire's hair making him sneeze. He sputters and swats at it lightly.

"Deedee," Claire says cheerfully.

"'Morning," he answers gruffly.

"Sorry," Castiel mumbles from out of sight on the other side of the bed. "She slept so much lately while recovering that I think she's making up for lost time now."

"What time is it?" Dean asks, yawning widely.

"Six," Castiel groans.

"I'll make coffee," Dean answers. He climbs out from under the covers, shivering in the cold air. It's still fully dark outside and Dean curses the energy of toddlers as he gathers up his discarded clothes, putting them on as he shuffles down the stairs to the kitchen. His phone is still in his pocket, so he checks the battery while he waits for the coffee to brew. There's a text from Sam sent just a few minutes ago. Seriously? He probably went running or some other healthy shit. Ugh.

_Sam: Are Claire and Cas well enough to come tonight?_

_Me: Yeah. Need me to pick you up?_

_Sam: No. I'm planning on getting there a little early. See you tonight._

Dean shakes his head. Sam was probably too excited to get much sleep, morning run or not. Their announcement is a big deal. Castiel had assured Dean that his parents would welcome the marriage wholeheartedly, but he's still a little concerned. It hasn't been a long relationship, and he doesn't want anyone bursting his brother's happy bubble because it's too soon to think about forever. Right then and there Dean makes it his personal mission to assure Sam's smooth transition into the Novak family.

Which reminds him.

_Me: Call Dad and Kate and Adam and tell them._

_Sam: Already did._

That's good. Though Dean does wonder why his dad hasn't called him about it. He'd spent a little bit of time getting to know Gabriel over the holiday, but probably not enough to sate his curiosity fully. He'd want more details from an outside opinion. And Dean would say nothing but nice things.

Even though Gabriel annoys the shit outta him on a good day. He's a good man and good for Sam.

xxXXxx

Of course, Gabriel is even more annoying, if possible, when Castiel, Claire, and Dean show up right on time for the opening, dressed in their Sunday best. The rest of the Novak clan has already gathered, along with several invited guests to stay at the B&B for a long weekend to rate how prepared the place is for a full opening.

Gabriel meets them in the entrance hall while they're removing their coats and says, "where's Sam?"

Dean pauses removing his scarf. "What? I thought he was already here."

"I thought he came with you," Gabriel answers.

"No, man. I texted him this morning and he said he'd come by himself, so not to worry about him."

Castiel touches Gabriel's arm. "He's probably just running late. You smell awfully worried."

Gabriel grimaces. "Yeah, 'cause last I heard he was gonna be here four hours ago to help me get everything set up. Am I really stinking up the place?" He sniffs his arm. "I already put on some coverup to kill the smell. Don't wanna run anyone off."

Dean glances over Gabriel's shoulder and sees the VIP guests milling around while servers wander through with trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne. No Sam for sure. "I'll call him," he says, nodding to Castiel and stepping away from the crowds into the private office Gabriel indicates to the right of the check in counter.

"He hasn't been answering for me," Gabriel frets.

Despite not being totally warm to the guy, Dean _is_ sympathetic. And Gabriel really _does_ smell worried, like sour apples. Only just a little, though. The coverup is helping. "Don't worry, I'll find him." He shuts the door behind him, digs out his cell phone, and dials. He knows there's some rational explanation for Sam not being here yet. He really does. But he still takes deep, calming breaths while the phone rings. No one picks up and it goes to voicemail. "Yo, Sammy," he says with forced cheerfulness. "We're at the opening and you sure ain't. Gabe's gonna bust my balls 'til he knows what's up so get your ass here soon, okay? Call me. Don't make Gabe worry." He hangs up and leans back against the ornate oak desk that's scattered with dozens of papers and files. Clearly, Gabriel's been working his ass off to get this place opened and fully operational. It's his big night. Why the hell isn't Sam here to share it? Fuck.

Dean taps his cell phone against his bottom lip. What excuse could there possibly be at this point? Sam's not like this. Ever. He's never disappeared without saying a word, _especially_ when it's something so important to someone he loves. Dean tries not to panic, but the uneasy feeling grows until he finds himself dialing Sheriff Mills. She seems surprised that Sam's not there, but assures Dean that no one's called in any accidents or emergencies.

There's little else to do but wait and hope his little brother shows up with a sheepish look and a thousand apologies. Just to be sure, though, Dean texts, _call me_ to Sam and then shoves his phone in his back pocket.

Castiel is waiting for him at the door when he emerges. "Any word?"

"No," Dean says. "I called the station, and there haven't been any wrecks or anything. Sam's just... I dunno. Gone."

Castiel steps closer, running his hand soothingly down Dean's arm. "You smell scared," he says in a low tone so as not to be overheard.

"Dude, I _am_ ," Dean murmurs back. "This ain't like Sammy at all. He knows what this means to Gabe, and Sam's that guy who shows up to every single family event, even if it's only marginally important."

"He'll turn up," Castiel says, though his tone is hardly convincing. "We'll keep trying. I'll go tell Gabriel."

Dean jerks a nod. Castiel leans in, presses a kiss against his cheek. Then he slips away to inform his brother that Dean's had no luck in finding Sam.

An hour later, Dean is doing his best to be pleasant and enjoy the party, but trepidation gnaws at him. He tries not to let himself get too worked up because the last thing Gabe needs is an alpha stinking up the place with distressing pheromones. At least no one seems to notice too much, probably thanks to the huge open ballroom with high ceilings and the rich scent of the expensive buffet. It pisses Dean off. There's probably five grand worth of food laid out and he's too upset to even think about eating any of it. Dammit. The roast beef looks amazing, too. He glances away from the spread and meets Castiel's eyes from several feet away. He's got to hand it to his mate; the man is awesome at keeping his family from giving Dean the third degree about Sam.

Then Dean's phone buzzes in his pocket. He digs it out and sees Sam's name flashing on the screen. Fucking _finally_. He slips out of the ballroom when Gabriel's back is turned and presses accept. "Dammit, Sammy," he growls as quietly as he can. "Why the fuck aren't you here? I've been calling! _Gabe's_ been calling, and-"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam cuts in in a rush. He sounds like he's somewhere crowded. "My plane just landed. I couldn't call before."

Dean's heart stutters. "Plane? What the fuck? Where are you? Did something happen to Dad?"

"No!" Sam says sharply. "Nothing like that. It's... Dean, you have to promise not to get mad."

"I already am. Might as well spit it out."

The background noise lessens, indicating Sam probably leaving the airport. A door shuts and then Sam sighs. "I went back home."

Kansas isn't home, though. Dean is confused for a moment. It passes and he's even more angry than before. "What the fuck for?"

"Do you..." he hesitates. "Do you remember Amelia?"

That was the last thing he'd expected to hear. It takes him a minute to process, in fact. "The veterinarian you dated before we moved here?"

"Yeah."

"The veterinarian whose husband showed up and took her back?"

Sam makes a small noise of distress. "It wasn't totally like that, and you know it, Dean. I told her to go back to him."

"She would have anyway," Dean insists fiercely. Anyone could tell she'd wanted to restore her old bond more than form a new one with Sam.

"Yeah, well..." he trails off again and covers the phone for a second. There's muffled talking and then he's back. "Sorry, had to give directions. Okay... I didn't tell you the whole story before. Right before we moved, Amelia and I ran into each other. And... shit, Dean, one thing led to another..."

He doesn't need a picture. "You fucked her."

"Jesus, Dean. _Yes_ , okay?"

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. "She pregnant?"

"Yes," Sam answers. "I think... _she_ thinks it might be mine. The time matches."

Dean's heart plummets. No. No, no, _no_. He clears his throat, but his voice still shakes a little when he says, "you couldn't have told Gabriel before you hauled off and left? You remember him? Your _mate_?"

There's silence for a second. "He's not my mate yet," Sam says softly.

Dean's squeezing his phone so hard in his hand that he's afraid he might break it. "That's not the fucking point. You and Gabe were ready to announce your engagement _this morning_ , and now you're in Kansas without a word to _anyone_ to find out if you're gonna be a father to some chick's kid, who you've had nothing to do with for _months_. That's fucking insane."

"No, it's not!" Sam protests, anger clear in his voice.

"Then tell me what it is," Dean shoots back. "Because I'm having a really hard time working up any sympathy for you right about now. You snuck off on the most important night of _your mate's_ career." He won't let Sam suggest he and Gabriel aren't mates. He can't. They've done everything but trade bites at this point. It's the same fucking difference with technicalities being damned. "Do you love her?"

"What?" Sam sounds genuinely confused. "No, I don't. Not anymore."

What the fuck? "What the actual fuck, man? She's married and she has a mate! You've got nothing to do with that!"

"I do! Dean, if I'm about to be a father, I want to know! I want to do the right thing here!"

"The right - what - I can't - _seriously_?" It's good that Sam's not here, because if he was, he'd have a broken nose. "You're not!"

"You don't know that," Sam says seethingly. "Look, I gotta go. I'm here. I'll call you later." He hangs up before Dean can yell at him to forget calling him back and talking to Gabriel instead. Shit. _Shit_! Sam Winchester, Fucking Idiot. He's never been this impulsive or stupid before. He's about to ruin his whole fucking life and there isn't a goddamn thing that Dean can do to help him. Or stop him. Dread settles heavily on him.

Slowly, he turns and finds Castiel standing in the hall a few feet away. He's heard some of the conversation. Enough. He approaches and takes Dean's hand.

"It's trouble," Dean says wearily and oddly close to tears. "A lot of fucking trouble."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient while I spent the weekend with my bestie at the Supernatural convention and not writing! Life's back to normal for now, though, so updates should pick up in the future.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel seek out their brothers for advice.

"Gabriel."

"Fuck off, bro!" Gabriel says cheerfully, waving an empty whiskey bottle in the air.

"Can I come in if I'm here as a doctor and not your brother?"

"I don't need either."

"Clearly you do, as it smells like a distillery in here. You might have alcohol poisoning."

"I ain't even seeing double."

Ignoring him, Castiel steps into the large executive suite at the B&B that Gabriel calls home. He closes the door and approaches the large plush sofa that Gabriel has fallen off of, dropping down next to him and yanking the bottle away. He then grabs Gabriel's wrist and checks his pulse. "You've been on a real bender for two days. You need to stop drinking now."

"I'm out, anyway," Gabriel answers. "I don't mess with the hotel's stock. And I won't go driving anywhere for you and Dean to dig me out of a gutler. Gootar. _Gutter_. Fuck me, I'm drunk."

"Yes, you are." Castiel examines Gabriel's bloodshot eyes and makes the executive decision to stay the night just in case.

"You and Dean," Gabriel mumbles. "Dean and you. Cas and Dean. Dean and Cas. What if... what if, like... uh... like you had a celebrity pair name? Thing. Y'know? When ya..." He claps his hands together, missing. Trying again. "Y'know, when you smoosh the names together like this? CaDean? Nah. Deaniel?" He laughs. "That's a real name isn't it? Uhh... Des... Cans... uh."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Destiel?" He sits cross legged next to Gabriel, resting his back against the couch.

Gabriel laughs harder. "Yes! Deanstiel! Desteel! What-the-fuck-ever-stiel! That's awful! It's yours, you win! Why are you guys such an awesome couple? Why are you so lucky? First you and Ames. Now you and Dean-o. You're such a great couple. You've loved... you've _been_ loved. You took all the love the rest of us in the family were supposed to get." He spreads his arms wide then flops them to his sides.

"That's foolish," Castiel admonishes gently. "And it's also not true. Sam didn't abandon you."

Gabriel's gaze sharpens though he's clearly having trouble focusing on Castiel's face. "Then... where the hell is he?"

"I don't know," Castiel answers sadly. "I'm sorry." 

He can't stand his brother's distress. In all honesty, Castiel has looked up to Gabriel for most of his life. Sure, the man's never been _perfect_. He's spent time running from his problems, or ignoring them until they become crises, but on the whole he's lived the way he's wanted, damn the consequences. It's why he's so happy, usually. Why people are so drawn to him. Why Sam fell in love with him, Castiel is certain. It hurts to sit next to his big brother and not be able to do anything for him. Gabriel is sinking towards true depression despite his drunkenness; it's easy to scent out the heavy sour notes amongst the formerly crisp apple scent with no hints of sweet candy left.

"Now you're starting to stink with me," Gabriel mutters.

"It's because you're my brother and I love you," Castiel says. "I wish I could help more than just being moral support."

Gabriel shakes his head and wobbles. "Nah, bro, it ain't your fight here. I can get my own head outta my ass, or not. But I will." His voice drops to steely resignation. "I've been able to get over everyone." His drunken humor is completely gone; replaced by soul-deep sorrow.

Castiel wishes that he could tell him he won't have to get over Sam. He doesn't know that for sure, but he can sense it. If Sam is anything like Dean, it has to be true. "I know."

A second later, Gabriel's voice is filled with tears. "Come on, didn't Dean say _anything_ about what's really going on? He knows _something_ , right?"

Carefully, Castiel nods. "He hasn't told me the whole story." That's true, at least. "What did _you_ hear?"

Gabriel sinks lower on the floor, head thrown back against the seat of the couch. "Sam called me yesterday."

That explains a lot. "And?"

Tears spill over Gabriel's temples into his hair and ears. He doesn't move to wipe them. "Fucker dumped me."

Castiel's eyes widen. He's truly shocked. "That can't be right."

"It's fucking _right_ , Castiel," Gabriel snaps. "He... fuck, he called and said..." he clears his throat angrily. "He fucking _said_ he was home trying to do right by some omega he used to know. Some... something about how he might be a father. He said... Cas, he said..." Gabriel fists his hands and shoves them against his eyes, voice almost too slurred with emotion and drink to be intelligible. "He said he loved me and he's sorry and if he couldn't mate me, he swore he wouldn't mate anyone else because I was it for him. But this was something he had to find out, and he understood if I never forgave him."

Castiel bites his bottom lip. Well, it _did_ sound like Sam to say and do something like that. "Idiot," he whispers.

"Fucking _right_ ," Gabriel agrees passionately. He slides his hands down his face, staring at the ceiling now. His voice has gone completely monotone. "You wanna know the worst part?"

No. "What is it?"

Gabriel's lip curls into a devastated smile. "I would'a gone with him. I would have stayed 'cause I understand. If he'd come to me before; just let me in on it, I would have 'done the right thing' with him. Sam Winchester broke my heart for no fucking reason."

Castiel's chest throbs painfully because he knows that's true. Gabriel would have done anything for Sam. All he would have asked for in return would have been steadfast devotion. Something that Sam clearly possesses, but misplaced this time. In his heart of hearts, Castiel hopes it's not the end of them. They truly are a good match, but while Gabriel doesn't hold grudges in favor of moving on, he also don't wait. Or forgive too often. And if he's already got it in his head that Sam isn't worth it, then that'll be the end no matter how much Sam tries to prove otherwise.

Castiel prays Sam comes back before it is too late.

xxXXxx

"How's Gabriel?" Dean asks like he already knows the answer.

Castiel shucks off his coat. "Just as you'd expect. Sam called him yesterday."

Dean winces. "I'm guessing Sammy shoved his foot in his mouth."

"By taking on all his problems by himself," Castiel agrees darkly. "Gabriel said he would have been there for Sam if he'd asked."

Dean makes a small, frustrated sound. "I believe it. My fucking brother doesn't know what's good for him. There anything I can do?"

Shaking his head, Castiel shrugs. "This is all up to them now. I kept Gabriel from giving himself alcohol poisoning, but he seems to be better today. Better than yesterday, anyhow."

"It's all we can hope for," Dean says. He shuffles forward and wraps Castiel in a tight hug. "You gotta get Claire tonight?"

Castiel smiles against Dean's neck. "No. My family is leaving in the morning, so my mother is keeping her tonight."

"Will you stay?"

"Yes," Castiel breathes. "I need to."

It's good to know that they're on the same wavelength. Neither of them particularly want to admit that their family problems are affecting them in such a way, but they are. Sam and Gabriel are so _wonderful_ together when they worked. It's difficult to be faced with the possibility that love isn't enough, no matter how much both of them realize the reality of it. It knocks away some of the shine off of the honeymoon period.

But the cocoon of affection Dean and Castiel have found does a lot to reinforce their own need for all of it. Dean murmurs, "don't ever let me run away from this. Not for anything."

Castiel holds onto him tighter. "That won't happen. We're going to do this together."

"Yeah." It sounds like a sigh of pure relief.

After a long moment of breathing each other in, heartbeats in tandem, Castiel says, "we have to do something to help."

Dean agrees. "Don't know what. All I can do is try to get Sam back here to talk to Gabriel."

"And I can try to convince Gabriel to listen. He's stubborn, and I'm afraid he might give up completely on Sam without even hearing him out."

Dean shifts back a little to look his mate in the eye. "Maybe love'll be enough to get him to try."

"I hope so," Castiel says. He has to believe it. It's the only thing Sam has going for him at this point.

xxXXxx 

Sam calls four days later as Dean is leaving from his shift. He picks up on the second ring. "Hey," he says.

"I'm home," Sam says. He sounds exhausted.

"Good," Dean answers, trying to keep his anger dialed low. 

"I'm going to see Gabe," he says haltingly.

"Good," Dean repeats.

Sam's familiar sigh gusts over the airwaves. "Can I stop by later?"

"Yeah," Dean relents, sliding into the Impala. "I'm going home now and I'm off tomorrow. Cas is pulling a double so I'll be alone."

"That's good. Dean, I-"

"Save it for your mate," Dean says succinctly, hanging up right after. It's the most civil he can manage to be. Fuck, but he hopes Sam and Gabe are able to work it out. Not tonight, though. Gabriel has been far too cheerful while smelling like hell to be in a forgiving sort of mood. As long as he doesn't slam the door in Sam's face right off, it's possible that they'll have a chance to fix what Sam broke.

Until then, all Dean can do is wait. He texts Castiel to update him and the response is encouraging, if not too hopeful.

So instead of inviting trouble, Dean goes home, cleans up, and waits.

It's probably a bad thing he doesn't have too much time to wonder. Four hours later, his doorbell rings.

Sam is on his front porch smelling like an airplane and hopelessness. Dean's anger evaporates for a moment and he steps out of the doorway, gesturing for Sam to come in. "Want a beer, or is that too dangerous?"

"Just one," Sam answers, voice raw.

Dean nods and goes to the kitchen while Sam fades away into the living room.

Damn it all. Dean knew it was going to be bad for Sam, but right now his little brother looks like it's the end of everything. And he'd been crying. He'd never been able to hide the red eyes and blotchy cheeks. Jesus. Dean grabs two beers and slams the fridge door.

He goes to the living room conflicted. On the one hand, he's justified in being angry at Sam for the stunt he pulled. He shouldn't have made his decision unilaterally. That's not what mates do. But on the other hand, bad decision or not, mourning the loss of someone you love is hard. The memory of his own loss is too fresh in his mind to not give Sam at least an inch of sympathy. "You gonna be a dad?" he asks, shaking off his own feelings.

Sam takes the offered beer and twists off the top. "No."

It's like a weight is being suddenly yanked off of Dean's shoulders. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Sam says, fiddling with the bottle rather than drinking from it. "DNA test. She wanted to be positive. It was all for nothing, I guess. Screwed it all up for nothing." He paces towards the Blu-ray shelves and absently glances through them.

"Sam." His brother doesn't need a lecture, but Dean sure longs to give him one. It's hard to convince himself to ignore the distressed pheromones filling his living room, but he at least tries. "What happened when you talked to Gabe?"

Sam flinches. "It's over."

His voice is filled with such hurt resignation that Dean's anger finally flashes white hot in an instant. "No," he growls. "Sam, no. It's not." He's starting to shake holding back the waves of intense, sickening anger. But he's so unprepared for it, that he can't properly put a lid on it. He's been holding it back so well for the whole week, that it can't help exploding all at once. Sam isn't like this! He's not a quitter! The only thing that had kept Dean from giving his little brother the bruising he deserved was the belief that the kid was actually smart and brave. It can't be like this. It just fucking _can't_.

Sam claws his fingers through his hair. But Dean's wave of hostile pheromones are digging into his brother. He's harsh when he growls back, "it's done, Dean. That's it. I've accepted it."

Tears of rage flood his eyes and Dean throws himself at Sam, fisting his hands into his brother's shirt, forcing him against the shelves, and not even caring that Sam loses his hold on the beer bottle and it plunks to the carpet, spilling everywhere. He can't do this! It'll be the worst decision he's made in a string of bad ones in the last week. "Goddammit, Sammy, you don't do this. You can't fucking do this. You go back and apologize. _Now_!"

Sam struggles to fight him off, but Dean's anger is stronger than Sam's indignation, so he can't move much and certainly can't throw his brother off. "I did!" He spits, his brother's sharp pheromones clashing with his own and heightening his agitation. "I did _everything_ to say that I was sorry and it did _nothing_! Gabe doesn't _want_ me, don't you get it?"

Slamming him back roughly if only to shut him up, Dean yells, "yes, he does! You have to try! Gabe _loves_ you, and that ain't nothing! You have to keep trying!"

"WHY?!" Sam screams back.

" _Because life is short_!" The tears fall quick and freely and they hurt. Bitterness, sorrow, anger, fear, overwhelm him. Months of it. _All_ of it. His voice cracks to near silence. "Sam." He moves back only far enough to hang his head. Watch his tears hit his shoes. "Life is so fucking short, Sammy. You can't just let it go when it's love. If you do..." he swallows hard. "If you do you'll regret it. Like, forever. Don't waste time on this shit. Tell him you're sorry." His eyes flick up. He can barely see his brother through the haze, but they lock eyes. "Tell him again and again and again until he gets it. Until he forgives you, because I know you. You're a good guy and you'll make him happier than anyone in the world if you can both stop being so fucking selfish. Trust me on this, brother. It's the only thing I'm sure of."

Sam touches Dean's hand, and Dean releases him, wavering back several steps. But Sam grabs him and pulls him into a tight hug. 

"Don't do this to yourself," Sam says harshly. "Dean, you gotta stop doing this to yourself! It's not your fault if things don't work out for me. You're not to blame if I miss my chance."

His shoulders are shaking so Sam holds him tighter. "You can't miss out. I know you don't know what you're giving up, but it's big. Dammit, Sammy, it's _big_." It's not about him, but it is, too. There's not much he's experienced that his brother hasn't, but _this_ is. And it's so fucking important because it doesn't - and won't - come around countless times until he gets it right. True mates are rare. Finding it once is enviable. Twice is almost like finding a unicorn. Many people don't even believe in true mates, anyway. But Dean does. That connection that instantly goes further than the scent bond. Deeper than even blood bonds. He'd had it with Benny and now he has it with Castiel.

And he _knows_ deep in his bones that's what Sam has with Gabriel. That those two work beyond the romance. Their lives fit. They can have everything if they don't give up. It's too easy to give up.

"Why aren't you fighting for it?" Dean asks after a long pause. His arms hurt clenching his brother's shoulders so hard.

"Dunno how," Sam admits softly. "I'm too scared." He pulls away. "Watching the way Dad struggled, and then you... part of me was relieved. It's bad to admit, I know. But I figured if it was gonna end, now would be easier."

Dean slumps back to the couch, collapsing into it and rubbing his itchy eyes. Sam picks up the dropped bottle and places it on the coffee table before joining Dean. "When it ain't easy to walk away, that's when you know it's important," Dean says eventually.

Sam nods wearily. "I love him. And I did the worst thing imaginable to him. He doesn't want to hear an apology. He just wants me gone."

Dean shakes his head. "If he wanted that, he never would have opened the door. He just wants to be mad."

"Yeah, okay, great, but what am I supposed to do about that?"

Dean shrugs. "You're supposed to let him be mad until he can't be anymore. Then you go back and give him your big dopey puppy eyes and start from square one."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Sam nearly smiles. "You make it sound so easy."

"Fuck that," Dean answers, grabbing for the tissues on the end table to wipe the rest of the wetness off of his face and blow his nose. "It's the hardest thing ever. Me and Cas had to do something like it." He doesn't notice Sam's eyes widen at his older brother's fond smile. "I was a dick to him so many damn times. I just couldn't... I dunno... Couldn't keep my head around him. Didn't want him until I did, y'know? And when I finally did, it was a freaking gong show for ages." He laughs shortly. "But we both came around. That's the shit I have faith in." He turns his head and punches Sam in the shoulder. "You keep the faith and that makes you try until something gives."

"Like you and Cas," Sam murmurs.

"Exactly."

"Huh," Sam finishes. 

Dean gives his brother a sour look. "What?"

This time Sam's tiny smile is genuine. "Nothing. Just. You and Cas. How you're talking about him. You're healing, Dean. I'm happy for you."

The hell does that mean? It dawns on him. _Me and Cas_. Him and Cas. It feels damn good. Different. Lighter than it's been. Castiel is the first thing in his mind now. He's not sure when it happened, but it feels right. Like it's about time. He clears his throat. "So, you gonna go for it or not?" he redirects.

"I think so," Sam says, allowing the shift. "I mean... I'm pretty patient. And I do love Gabe. I don't want anyone else."

"He's your mate?" Dean asks significantly.

"Yes."

"Good for you for finally fucking admitting it. Feeling any better?"

"No," Sam says, though is scent is starting to mellow out. "But I've got a focus now. That'll help. And thanks for not breaking my nose, or anything."

"Ain't my job anymore," Dean answers breezily. "Though, if you don't clean up that beer you spilled, I'll iron all your shirts with it."

The only reason that Sam complies is because Dean's done it before. He goes to the kitchen to grab some hand towels and yells, "jerk!"

"Back 'atcha, bitch!" Dean calls back. And in that moment he truly thinks they've all got a chance at this happiness thing.

xxXXxx

Castiel is only slightly surprised when Gabriel turns up on his doorstep an hour after Claire's bed time. His sadness is too strong to be completely concealed by the coverup spray he's been practically bathing in. Plus, he has large, dark circles under his eyes. Castiel lets him in and veers off to make tea. Gabriel is sitting cross legged in front of the fireplace on a throw pillow when Castiel is back, offering him a mug.

Gabriel takes it and raises it in cheers before taking a sip. "It'd be better with a shot of whiskey."

Castiel sits next to him. "You've had enough of that destructive coping this week, don't you think?"

"Yes, I have," Gabriel agrees. "I'm over it, I promise. Did Dean tell you that Sam's back?"

Castiel nods, figuring silence is the best option to get the real story from his brother without the sarcastic veneer that will make the real truth harder to determine.

Slowly, Gabriel sets his mug next to him on the floor, folds his legs up, and drapes his arms over his knees. "He came over. Said a bunch of stuff. Had the nerve to be upset."

Castiel nods again. "What did you do?"

"I threw him out on his ass," Gabriel says severely. Castiel can understand the impulse. He watches his brother closely until Gabriel's face crumbles a little and he drops his head into his hands. "He had some fucking _nerve_ , that asshole. Total alpha, you know? He was all handsome and... _tall_ , and he smelled just as bad as me, but it was still good, and I _hate_ him."

"You're trying," Castiel corrects gently.

Gabriel stomps his socked feet like he's having a brief tantrum. "You're damn right I'm trying! He doesn't deserve anything from me! He can take his floppy hair and big alpha dick and impress some other stupid omega! And before you say it, yes, I know I'm being childish."

"It's okay. You love him and he hurt you."

"I wish I didn't."

Castiel smiles a little. "Lying is a sin."

Gabriel huffs. "I don't wanna forgive him. I wanna hold a grudge forever."

"And be miserable forever?"

"You're being reasonable again. I hate it."

It feels safe enough to laugh a little now. "Well, I think that if Dean and I can make it work, you can do the same with Sam. The Winchester's are a challenge, but they're worth it. Sam made a huge mistake, but he's trying to make amends. He's got a lot to learn about mates. According to Dean, he's never even scent bonded before."

Gabriel purses his lips. "That's... kinda sad."

"You're special to him."

"He should have acted like it, then."

"I agree." Castiel puts a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, shaking him gently. "You have to decide if he's worth giving a second chance to."

Gabriel glares hard at the dancing flames in the fireplace. "What would you do?"

Castiel sticks his feet out towards the warmth of the fire. "I'm honestly not sure. I can't speak to Sam's character since I don't know him that well, but Dean is wonderful. If I were in your position with him, I would probably be inclined to give him another chance. I _did_ give Dean a second chance. They way they are... the way they were raised... they're not built to hurt people intentionally. I think they learn and don't repeat their mistakes. But they're also human. Nobody makes the right choice all the time, especially in a panic like Sam had."

Gabriel rubs his chest. "I can't make it go away. I want to think clearly about it, but I just... I saw him and my fucking hormones wanted me to claw his eyes out. And I can't do that. They're too nice."

Resting back on his hands, Castiel grins. "Okay, then. Be angry for a while. Let Sam stew. Consider the options once you've calmed down. Whatever you decide, I'll be on your side."

Gabriel nods several times. Picks up his tea and sips at it for a while. The silence isn't completely tragic anymore. Gabriel still doesn't look or smell like he's anywhere near normal, but the rotting apples have eased somewhat to simply overripe. And Castiel is pleased to scent a scant amount of caramel again. It's all working in the right direction. More than that, he's happy that Gabriel finds Sam important enough to give more consideration to than he usually does. It confirms Castiel's suspicions that both the Winchester boys are far more important than the average person who walks into their lives. They're due more than a simple hello and goodbye when they fuck up. Gabriel's devotion to Sam is quite profound. He'd been serious about mating him, marrying him. Fervently, Castiel prays that both alpha and omega are able to remember that before making a final call.

"I dunno, Cassie," Gabriel murmurs. "I really don't."

It's better than the usual alternative, though Castiel doesn't say as much. It's encouraging. "I'm here if you need me," he settles on saying.

Gabriel leans to the side and bumps their shoulders. "I'm glad I came with you to Halcyon." It's the most honest thing he's said thus far, and Castiel is grateful for the truth. There's hope here. None of it comes easily, but it _does_ come when they put the effort in.

Finally, Gabriel sighs and unfolds himself from his crunched up position. "If Sam and I can't work things out, will it make it awkward for you and Dean?"

That surprises him. Warms his heart. "No," he assures his brother. "I mean, there might be some strange times during family holidays, but we're all adults. And most of the time we act like it."

Gabriel chuckles and Castiel smiles wider.

"Don't worry about me and Dean. This is about you and Sam."

"Can I spend the night?" Gabriel veers off.

"Of course," Castiel answers. "The spare room is always ready for you."

"'Preciate ya, little bro."

Castiel pats him on the back. "As you should."

"Yeah, yeah." He holds out his empty mug. "Now be a real brother and make me some hot chocolate. Giving me tea; it's like you don't know me at all."

Castiel gets to his feet and takes both of the mugs. "I do know you," he argues lightly. He does, indeed. And that's why he's almost entirely certain that it'll all work out eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you are wondering what happened with Sam and Gabriel's full confrontation, I will be writing it in a Sabriel companion fic to Our Home Below that will focus on their entire relationship. :D But I didn't want to focus too much on it here since this fic is all about the Destiel.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **NSFW!** Castiel and Dean find Charlie. They also find the rest of their lives.

Sam and Gabriel's love life becomes a strange sort of daily ritual for Dean and Castiel. They've been settling into a routine together, splitting time between each other's houses, which makes Claire extremely happy to have two homes to destroy. 

And part of that routine has been the daily, "have you heard anything from your brother?" Usually followed by a shake of the head. 

For a whole month. Then life starts to pick up again, forcing Dean and Castiel to largely ignore the lamentations of their brothers in favor of finding some alternative childcare for Claire. Gabriel had been a godsend while the B&B was in its restoration stage, but the soft opening had been good enough that he'd opened the gates for real on February 1st. And they're booked solid until the end of the summer, leaving the elder Novak no time to take care of his precocious niece. 

Neither Castiel nor Dean knows how to go about finding a reliable nanny in such a small town. Claire isn't quite old enough for the local preschool's program, though Castiel says that he'll insist on it three days a week when she turns three. Until then, he and Dean scour the internet and ask local parents to find a lead. But it turns out that good nannies are as rare as miracles, and they're both worn down juggling double shifts while parenting to the point of Dean saying one night when they're flopped in bed too tired to even take their clothes off, "hey, Cas, you know what? I take back everything I've said about providing for you and Claire. I'll be a stay at home dad. I'll be able to sleep more, if nothing else."

"Why do you get to stay home?" Castiel gripes, rolling over and finally worming his shoes off his feet, lethargically kicking them off the side of the bed. "You're more of a morning person than I am. You should be the one working. Plus, if you think Claire will allow any sleeping in for even a second, you are sadly misinformed."

Dean manages to strip his jacket off without even sitting up. "You make three times what I could ever dream of as a park ranger. Don't be stingy."

"It's not stingy, it's selfish," Castiel corrects with a yawn so big that his jaw pops. "We need someone soon or we're going to die of exhaustion."

"Is that even a thing?" Dean yawns, infected by Castiel's.

"Through observation, my medical opinion is, hell yes, it is."

Dean chuckles and yawns again. "There has to be someone."

That "someone" turns out to be an unexpected arrival to Halcyon who's been living at the B&B since it opened. Her name is Charlie Bradbury, and the fatigued alphas only catch wind of her because Gabriel mentions her to Castiel when he's over cooking dinner on his evening off to take some of the pressure off of his brother.

"You keep extending her stay?" Dean asks incredulously as he removes the dirty dishes from the table. "Doesn't that mean you're cancelling on people? Like, _famous_ , rich people who want to be among the first to stay at Gabe Novak's new digs?"

He shrugs, kicking his feet up on the chair opposite him at the table. "Sure, but I don't give a shit about them. All they do is bring me money. Charlie is amazing. She's paying me in good work."

"Doing what?" Castiel asks.

"IT stuff. She's made the public and private networks secure, fast, practically uncrashable, and probably slightly illegal. I don't ask, I just take. I never dreamed the middle of nowhere could have such a good connection"

Dean quirks an eyebrow. "Sounds awesome."

"The best part," Gabriel says breezily, "is that she's looking for something to do during the day. I mentioned your predicament, and she claims to be good with kids."

Immediately, Dean holds out his hand to Castiel. "Pass me my work laptop. I'm gonna run a background check right now."

Castiel complies without a second thought. He's too tired and if Gabriel is teasing him, there will be one less Novak left in the world. He says so, too.

"She's legit," Gabriel insists.

"So are my protective instincts," Dean answers. "Don't you wanna know who's messing around in your servers?"

Gabriel's smirk irritates him. "Sure, but if she's a criminal, being as good at computers as she is, we wouldn't find the truth with a background check anyway, would we? She's really _that_ good."

"Not as good at covering up official records as I am at finding them," Dean answers. "Or, well... not me. Sam. Who I'm messaging right now. He's on it." He pushes his laptop away. "Speaking of which..."

"Nope," Gabriel says.

"Look, I already know that something's going on with you two, and it ain't bad," Dean says.

"Do not," Gabriel sing-songs like a child.

"Do, too," Dean shoots back. "If it were bad, you or he wouldn't be collectively saying nothing and smelling fine. So, it's a good thing that's happening. Or at least you're getting there."

"Awesome powers of perception, Nancy Drew," Gabriel says lightly. "But it's between me and Sam for now. Surely you can appreciate privacy."

Impressed, Dean says, "yeah. Yeah, I can."

Gabriel winks. "Thanks other Winchester. Now, what's the word on Charlie?"

Dean checks the screen. "Sam's running it now."

The databases Sam checks turn up a few question marks in Charlie's job history, and a couple of years where she's fallen off the grid, though Sam notes it was probably to take care of her ailing mother. Interestingly, she appears to have experience as a teacher, so Dean copies down the the reference phone number and calls it immediately. A long conversation later with Castiel on speaker, they discover that Charlie was the darling of Westwood Elementary school back before her mother's accident, and was the computer lab instructor for four years; adored by all for her ability to relate to the kids because of her quirky personality. The school's principal still laments Charlie opting to move away to care for her mother, though she understands. "Heart of gold, that girl," she finishes her long speech.

When Dean hangs up, Castiel says, "Gabriel, would you please ask her if she'd like to interview with us?"

Gabriel is already texting. "She says she'll be here tomorrow at ten."

xxXXxx

Charlie Bradbury is a true miracle as far as Castiel is concerned, especially considering that he believes in those. She smiles brightly, dresses brightly, and Claire is immediately enamored with her firey red hair. The pair take to each other well, and though Dean has about a dozen questions left to ask her about every minutiae of her life, Claire has other ideas, and drags the woman to her room to play.

Castiel flips on the baby monitor with a shrug when they disappear. "This is probably the best judge of capability," he says.

They hire her on the spot when it's time for Claire's nap an hour later.

Charlie is amazing with Claire, and unexpectedly, she also proves to be a valuable spy. She takes Claire out a lot during the day, and quickly, willingly, becomes embroiled in the family politics.

Sam and Gabriel both remain uncharacteristically tight-lipped about how they're progressing or not.

Charlie becomes the eyes and ears. And two days before Valentine's Day, she bursts in the door as rosy-cheeked as Claire while Castiel and Dean have the rare opportunity to make dinner together. Or argue about it. Dean's already had burgers twice this week, and Castiel votes for beef stew. Rock, paper, scissors, Dean loses, so it's beef stew.

"Guys," Charlie breaths excitedly, unstrapping Claire from her leash and helping her out of her coat. "I totally have some intel!"

Both alphas swing around. "Seriously?" Dean demands. "It's been a month. Give us the goods, Bradbury."

She's grinning as she hangs up Claire's winter wear. "I saw Gabriel at the grocery store. He was being sneaky, so I totally followed because, super shady! Anyway, he bought chocolate, expensive steak, and merlot."

Castiel and Dean trade significant looks. Dean says, "Sam hates merlot."

"Spam hates Margot!" Claire chirps.

Castiel chuckles and kisses his daughter on the top of her head. "It's the thought that counts. So, this is encouraging, yes?"

"Yes," Dean agrees, chopping more carrots. "Hopefully this is the turning point, then."

Charlie jumps up to sit on the counter next to him, peering into the pot. "Which one? Getting back together or mating?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Dean answers, "but I want to know exactly nothing about my little brother's sex life."

Charlie titters and helps Claire into her booster seat to give her a juice box. 

"I hope it goes well," Castiel says.

"He looked really happy," Charlie says, swiping a carrot to munch. "I think they'll be just fine." She looks so certain of it that Castiel and Dean can't help but believe her.

xxXXxx 

Castiel and Dean don't have any particular plans for Valentine's Day. Charlie offers to watch Claire so that they can have some alone time, but Dean turns it down. He likes to think that instead of the cheesy holiday for romance, he can share the love with the most important people who walked into his life and he wants to one day consider a part of his family. He even sends Sam a card. Well, a glitter bomb. It's the thought that counts.

They have a nice dinner at his cabin with Claire, including a rich chocolate cake from the local bakery. Somehow Claire manages to spread the icing all over Dean, even in his hair, so when Castiel goes to put her to bed in the spare room that Dean's converted into a part-time nursery, he takes a quick shower.

When he returns to the bedroom, he smiles as he walks over to the dresser where the baby monitor is, hearing Castiel reading a quiet bedtime story in his calming baritone. Absently, Dean pulls on boxers and a long sleeved shirt. He laughs when Claire corrects her father's voice acting at a certain part in the story. He moves to pick up the monitor and his eyes fall on his necklace with his wedding rings. He only ever takes them off to shower. 

Slowly, he picks the bands up and stares at them. And after a time he realizes that the ache that used to rend him is gone. Now he's left with just the pleasant bittersweet memories. He considers the rings and then the cedar keepsake box sitting next to the clock on the dresser. His father had carved it by hand for his eighteenth birthday.

Gently he runs his fingers over the wedding bands. It's time. It really, truly is. "Thanks for everything," he murmurs and slides the cedar box towards him.

"Dean... what are you doing?"

Dean turns and sees the hesitancy in Castiel's posture where he's stopped in the doorway. He can smell the guilt. Dean shakes his head. "It's not anything about you. I mean, it's not because I feel pressured, or anything. I'm..." He holds up the necklace and shrugs. "I'm putting away the ghosts."

With dawning understanding, Castiel approaches and puts his hands over Dean's, securing the rings tightly in their palms. "Why?"

Dean presses a kiss to Castiel's temple and then pulls back, slipping the rings into the cedar box. Then he turns to Castiel and takes both his hands again. "I'm ready," he says simply.

Castiel's eyes widen. "For?" He really has to hear it to be certain. It's already more than he's ever dreamed of.

He raises their joined hands with a small smile. "For this. For us. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, y'know? After Sam and Gabe's... _thing_ , I couldn't help thinking about us. Where we were headed. So..." He rubs the back of his head. "Cas, d'you think you might wanna... mate? Actually bond with me?"

 _Yes_ He does. Everything in his heart longs for it. It's not about forgetting the past or what they'd had before each other. But there was a time to make room for the rest of his life. Castiel and Amelia are the past. Castiel and Dean are the rest of his life. His future. "I love the hell out of you, Dean Winchester," he says.

Dean grins. "So, that's a yes?"

"Yes."

"Fucking _yes_ ," Dean breathes, his pheromones flooding out in bright spicy cloves. He brings Castiel against his chest and wraps him up in his strong arms and scent like home. _Home. Mate. Love._

They kiss and Castiel revels in his own scent mingling with Dean's, singing together about perfection. He's in love. Deeply and permanently. It's freeing to both admit it and let it course through him completely uninhibited. He and Dean are always going to be together. It's fantastic. He releases Dean and turns around. "Go ahead," he says, dipping his head. He unbuttons the top two buttons on his shirt and pulls the collar down to expose his own necklace.

He can smell the slight anxiety, but Dean's hands touch his neck gently and slide down to the necklace. He undoes the clasp and slip the necklace forward. Castiel cups his hands and accepts it. Then he turns again, staring at Dean with all the love he has. "Thank you." He closes the clasp again and puts the necklace into the box with Dean's, carefully closing the lid.

Dean's hands touch Castiel's neck, draw a line up against his pulse and then cup his face. "I love you," he murmurs. 

"I love you, too."

Kissing this time feels slightly like they've just discovered it, as cheesy as it seems to even think. But Dean reins it in when his brain registers the intent in Castiel's pheromones. The preparation for mating. It's unbelievable, and the alpha in him responds immediately to the heady change. It's a deep and silky, earthy scent, trying to entice Dean's hindbrain by adding complimentary notes to Castiel's already amazing scent. These moments, with two bodies and brains aligning, is the best part of bonding. Until the sex part. But that can happen after.

Dean can't stop himself from responding, though. He can actually feel the glands in his neck swell a little. Castiel tilts his head, exposing his neck, and at the movement, Dean's fingers unconsciously trace up the bared column to the glands. Castiel lets out a small whimper when Dean presses on them lightly.

"We don't have to do this tonight," Dean says so softly that he can barely hear himself over his own racing heartbeat.

"I know that," Castiel answers breathlessly, "but I want to. I _really_ want to."

"I can tell," Dean smiles, tipping his chin down to mouth over the gland. It tastes like heaven. "I do, too."

Castiel's fingers spasm against Dean's shoulders. "I can tell," he echoes. "What's your call?" he asks while shoving at Dean's head to unlatch him and tilt his head enough for him to have his own chance to lick at Dean's swollen glands.

"My forebrain and hindbrain are on the same page," he gasps, moaning softly. "I asked if you wanted to before we started this part."

"You did indeed," Castiel murmurs, voice pitched down towards silky seduction. He presses his nose against Dean's neck and takes a deep breath in. Then he sighs on the exhale, drawing himself back to put a foot of distance between them, though he tangles his fingers with Dean's. His eyes are clear of being too hormone addled to think properly when he meets Dean's loving, yet amused gaze.

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot," Dean says with a teasing smirk.

"Oh, that's hardly a problem right now," Castiel answers with a smirk of his own. He tugs Dean's hands to get him moving towards the bed. 

Dean follows willingly as they go through their nightly routine together, still simmering with their impromptu pre-mating declaration, but clearing their heads all the same by the familiar motions of their normal routine. They tuck into bed side by side, resting against the headboard and holding hands. It's quiet for several minutes with each alpha lost in his own thoughts.

"Can we do it tonight?" Castiel asks eventually. "Are you ready for the commitment now, or do you still need time?" 

Dean meets his eyes, his own expression wide open and honest. "Yeah, I'm ready now. I honestly am. But, I mean, don't you want it to be special?"

Castiel grins. "How is it not? This part is a private thing. You don't need to make some huge production of it for my benefit. We've had a lovely, special evening together. I don't need all the extra window dressings to remember it forever. Unless. Do you?"

Dean scoffs. "Hell, no. It's just that I want it to be perfect. Blood bonding you. Mating you. Marrying you. I just want it to all be perfect, Cas."

His smile softens. He didn't think he could love Dean more, but it's a surprise every day. He opens his arms. "Then come here and make it special. Bond me, Dean. Mate me."

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in a deep, fortifying breath. Everything inside him, every last cell in his body, feels like it's aligning for this. It's exactly what he wants. What he _needs_. He falls into Castiel's arms, pressing him into the mattress and kissing him deeply until they're both gasping, scents melding back to their previous collaboration enticing their desires to mate permanently.

Dean nips at Castiel's bottom lip. "Cas," he whispers. Down his chin. "Cas." To his neck and between his collar bones. "Cas." Over to where his pulse is singing below his swollen glands. "Cas, I love you." 

His mouth floods with saliva, and at the same time Castiel sighs, " _yes_ ," Dean bites down hard and steady, breaking the skin. Castiel's arms come around him tightly. Pheromones flood Dean's mouth, mix with his saliva, and he swallows convulsively. Oh, God. The hormone high pulses through him with every beat of his heart. Castiel is arching under him with a muted cry, and it's _so much_. He releases the bite and licks at it, tasting blood and spice. He can barely process anything as Castiel growls and rolls them over, grinding down into Dean's lap as he kisses him frantically, chest, shoulder, neck and right over the gland.

Castiel has to bite. It's the only thing he can do. There is nothing else than bonding Dean. "Dean, I love you," he gasps against his gland. "I love you, love you, _love you_." That's the most he can stand before his instincts take over and he bites down, nearly sobbing with relief as Dean squeezes him hard with a shuddering moan.

Somehow, their mouths meet again in a bruising kiss that makes time completely irrelevant. And it's not nearly enough. They both rip away shirts and boxers until they're pressed skin to skin from lips to toes. Nothing between them to trap their blending scents or block the primal urge to be completely together and bound. Their hands trace every inch of flesh by rote, and not by conscious thought. Their hips move in time, hard cocks rubbing together, driving for some kind of relief more by pressure than friction.

It takes conscious willpower to separate just enough for them both to have enough space to wrap their hands around the other's bulging knot. Then it's back to pure instinct, kneading, stroking in that primal way together to bring them to release.

Castiel breaks first with a guttural, breathy cry. His come splashes between them, making his hands slippery and changing the friction just enough that Dean crashes over the edge right after, shuddering and nearly choking on his tongue as his orgasm overwhelms him.

They kiss again and again, as the aftershocks overtake them, like they could drown in it. Dean's not even sure if he's breathing anymore. 

But their hindbrains know what to do. Their mouths move to find the fresh bites, sucking gently while their releases mix, massaging into their knots. Their minds and bodies are slowly bonding through their shifting pheromones and mating bites. And as Dean drifts back down to Earth, he takes a moment to believe in souls like Castiel does so that those can also be joined when they have an actual wedding. God, he loves this man. Every beat of his heart whispers it over and over.

Neither of them move for a long time.

Castiel's voice is truly wrecked when he says, "that was..."

"... I know."

Castiel shifts and digs under the pillow to find his discarded undershirt to clean them up with. "It occurs to me we never decided who would move in with whom."

That is the last thing Dean expected to hear. He laughs loudly. "Really? You couldn't let the romantic afterglow last for a few more minutes?"

"I'm sorry," Castiel laughs. "It was the first thing that came to mind. I'm just so happy right now. It's also been..." he lifts his head to glance at the clock, "forty-eight minutes."

Dean takes the shirt and finishes wiping himself down, then tosses it aside. He drags Castiel back into his arms, scenting their new bonding pheromones. "Being practical is you being romantic, I guess. I think we should live at your place."

Castiel drapes a leg over Dean's hip. "It's that easy for you to decide?"

Shrugging, Dean says, "yeah, sure. I mean, your place is closer to town, your work, my work, the school. Once Claire starts kindergarten, she can take the bus. It doesn't go up the road to the cabin."

Castiel pushes up onto his forearms, considering Dean with a mixed expression. "Dean."

He grins. "What?"

"You're the only one for me."

"I better be. Can I make a request since I'm giving up my mancave for you?"

"Sam still calls it your serial killer cabin."

"Sam's name is not welcome in the bedroom, Cas. Because you invoked him, my request is now a demand. We're getting married in the fall."

Castiel sinks down against Dean's chest again. "That sounds wonderful." They're quiet again for a minute before Castiel says, "we're mated, Dean."

"Yeah. Forever, Cas."

 _Forever_.

They both fall asleep easily that night.

xxXXxx

"Hey, Dad."

"Dean? Hey, son! You callin' 'cause you're dying or you callin' 'cause you're doing?" A voice in the background admonishes loudly, "John!"

Dean grins. "That Kate? Put us on speaker."

There's slightly scratching and then John's more echoey voice says, "she's here. So's Adam. Seriously, what's up? You never call. And you also never spell properly in your texts, so either way it's a loss for me."

"Yeah, whatever. I didn't call you so you could bitch at me."

"Language!" Kate says. "And your father's just pissed I won't let him get a vacation house up there near you."

Dean grabs himself a beer and leans against the kitchen counter. "Well, I got a proposition for you. How'd you guys like to take my cabin as a vacation place? It's paid off."

Silence on the other end of the line. Dean opens his mouth to break it, but Claire does instead as she careens into the kitchen, buck naked and screaming. Charlie is close on her heels with a bath towel yelling, "I swear to God, you slippery eel!" The shrieking continues into the living room. Castiel has appeared from the garage entry, late home from work again, removing his tie with a confused expression. "Do I want to know?"

"Hang on," Dean says into the phone. He nods Castiel towards the bedroom and sits them down, phone between them. "You're on speaker now."

"What was all that?" Kate asks.

"My daughter is the Flash," Castiel says.

Kate's laughter floats from the speaker. "Dean was the same. How are you, Castiel?"

"I'm well, thank you," he answers politely while giving Dean an even more confused look.

Dean rolls his eyes and takes Castiel's hand. "We're getting off track here. Okay, so, I'm calling to tell you that I'm offering you the cabin because I'm moving in with Cas." He tries not to, but he talks faster and faster in his nervousness. "We, uh, we bonded. We're mated now. So, like, uh, we're getting married in October. Clear your calendars and all that."

More silence. This time not broken by an outside source.

"What the fuck?!" Adam finally yells.

" _Language_!" All the adults say.

Dean hangs his head, laughing. "Guys, come on."

Adam says, "that's awesome, Dean! Congrats!"

"Yes!" Kate follows. "It's surprising, but we're so happy for both of you! John, say some-oh... he's crying, Dean. Good job. Can we come and visit soon? Maybe for Adam's spring break?"

Dean shoots Castiel a questioning look, and Castiel says, "that would be wonderful, yes. I'd love to meet the rest of the family officially."

"Absolutely."

John's voice is a bit scratchy when he says, "can I get a second with Dean by himself?"

There's a round of "yes" and the scraping of chairs. Castiel stands and kisses Dean's hand before leaving the bedroom to help chase down his daughter. He shuts the door behind him.

"What's up, Dad?" Dean asks, leaning back on his hands.

"I'm proud of you," he says quietly. "Dean, I'm... goddamn, I'm proud of you."

Throat suddenly tight, Dean says, "yeah, well, you were right."

"And you listened."

"I'm glad I did."

John clears his throat. "Okay, enough of the chick flick. Go make your family a good dinner and I'll have Kate email you with Adam's vacation dates."

"Hey, Dad," Dean says quickly before John hangs up.

"Yeah."

"Love ya'."

John laughs. "Love you, too, you stubborn shit. Talk to you later." He hangs up and Dean's face hurts from smiling so widely.

He opens the door and Castiel is coming down the hall holding a partially clothed, squirming Claire. "I gave Charlie extra wages tonight. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind." He steps into the hallway and kisses Claire noisily on the cheek. Castiel he kisses more tenderly on the lips. "You two hungry?"

"Yes," Castiel says, while Claire says, "yup!"

"I'll make burgers." He kisses them both again and starts towards the kitchen. 

"Dean?"

Dean turns and his stomach flutters at the lovely picture his family makes looking at him like he's the best damn thing since sliced bread. 

"How'd it go?"

Dean grins. "Great. Everything's perfect."

Castiel smiles and Claire screeches her approval because she can smell their mixed happiness. Dean continues towards the kitchen with Castiel and Claire beside him. He's thankful his dad was right. They're gonna make it, the three of them. They're gonna be happy for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the main story, though there is an epilogue to follow! And for those of you feeling cheated out of Sam and Gabriel's situation, don't worry, their fic is coming up next. :D


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life settles in.

**10:52 am, Sunday, October 15, Halcyon, Maine**

Dean Winchester is standing in his former bedroom at his former cabin, looking completely lost. And so is his father. And so is his brother. "We're screwed," he says.

"It's not an emergency. We'll figure it out," Sam says, typing rapidly on his phone. "Google won't fail us. Ah! Here's a video, c'mere."

The three of them crowd around the phone and watch the video. Four minutes later John Winchester swears under his breath. Sam _hmm's_ in confusion, and Dean mutters, "was there actual magic involved in that?" They play the video again, and this time John and Sam confirm witchcraft. Screwed.

Adam knocks on the bedroom door and pushes it open without waiting for an answer. He gives the three older Winchesters a once over. "Why aren't you ready yet?"

"We got stuck," Sam says.

"Bow ties are impossible," Dean clarifies.

"You're all stupid," Adam says. "It ain't rocket science. I'll do it." One by one, he easily ties and secures the bow ties, nodding with satisfaction when he's finished. It takes him less than four minutes.

John can't seem to believe it. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"YouTube," Adam says. "Duh. Now get moving. Mom's having a fit being so behind schedule."

"The church is five minutes away," Dean protests. "We're fine."

Adam shrugs. "She needs to see you first to get the rest of her pre-game crying done."

"Figures," Dean mutters, but he's out the door after adjusting his collar, finding Kate in the living room, reapplying her eye makeup. She really has been pre-crying. "Kate, come on," he says with a warm smile.

She hugs him tightly, then immediately pulls back to brush the wrinkles out of his tuxedo and pick at imaginary lint. "You look so handsome," she says. "Don't need me crying all over you and ruining it."

"It's fine. I'm good. You ready?"

"Isn't that for me to ask you? How are you doing?" She pats his arms soothingly, though she smells distinctly like she's in greater need of comfort than her eldest.

"I'm ready," Dean answers with an encouraging grin. He knows he smells anxious, but it's the good kind. He's been ready to marry Castiel since they'd mated and bonded. He would have done it the day after the mating, but it takes time to plan such a big party, and Kate would have killed him if they'd eloped. She'd repeatedly insisted that all of her children are to have big, gaudy, long weddings to make up for them being uncontrollable alphas all over her house for so many years.

And the Novak's would have been worse. Dean himself has probably spoken to Naomi more often in the last eight months than Castiel has. He should never have told her that he didn't care about flower arrangements. He could almost feel her breathing fire through the phone.

All in all, he's nervous, but he's ready. He pulls his cell phone out from the inner pocket of his jacket and types, "ready when you are."

The reply comes back a minute later. "Always."

xxXXxx 

Naomi is making Castiel extremely nervous. She's flitting around the small church, fretting about every last detail and making it sound like anything besides absolute perfection means utter ruination. The flower arrangements at the altar were slightly off center. The bows on the pews looked strange in the lighting, the caterer was running ten minutes behind. All of it _completely_ unacceptable.

All Castiel wants to do is marry Dean. Get this part over with. Tell God their intentions and then take his husband to the presidential suite at the B&B and fuck his brains out. Is that too much to ask without all the palm sweating?

He startles when something cold touches his cheek. He swipes at the object and comes away with a flask.

"Mother is in rare form," Gabriel notes.

"I hope your wedding is bigger," Castiel mutters, unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig of whatever crap his brother has filled it with.

"Hey," Gabriel says with mock offense, "that gift was aged to perfection and costs more than you make in half a year."

Castiel pauses before he swallows. The whiskey _does_ taste very good. He rolls it around for a moment and then lets the pleasant burn slide down his throat. "Thank you," he says. He feels much better.

Gabriel shrugs and the door opens and slams shut. Cain and Michael are there looking like they just escaped the zombie apocalypse. "That woman," Cain says passionately. "She's going to be the end of us."

Michael smiles serenely. "Anna is locking her down." He points to the flask. "If Mother sees that she will actually kill you, though."

Gabriel chuckles. "Not with the manicure she has for the big day."

Castiel tucks away the flask just to be safe, and holds his cell phone instead. He texts Dean, "get here soon or there might be a murder." He's sure he won't get another moment of peace until the rest of the wedding party arrives.

And he certainly doesn't have long to wait. It's not ten minutes later before Naomi knocks on the door and opens it. "The Winchester family is here."

Castiel's heart thumps. Gabriel puts a firm hand on his shoulder. "Reel that scent in or Dean'll think you don't want him."

He takes another deep breath and another swig of whiskey once his mother is gone. "I want him," he says. "Let's go."

xxXXxx

It's the second time that it's the first day of the rest of their lives, and it's clear to all that they've never been happier. Castiel stands in front of the priest with Gabriel by his side, Dean with Sam. But soon it's all about the two of them. The priest starts to talk, and Dean tries to pay attention, but Castiel is holding his hands, smelling happier than anything, and smiling. It's so much to take in that he can't really be expected to split his attention for less important things.

So he smiles back at Castiel.

Castiel tilts his head and gives him a prompting look. Dean does nothing. Castiel smiles wider and whispers, "you didn't hear any of that, did you?"

 _Wait, what_?

Someone giggles in the audience. Dean glances out and sees that it's Charlie. She waves and so does Claire, who is seated right beside her.

Castiel squeezes his hands to draw his attention back and suddenly Dean is about a second away from panic. He knows what he's miss all of the sudden. He hadn't heard the vows.

"I'll go first," Castiel whispers. Then loud enough for everyone to hear says, "I, Castiel James Novak, take you, Dean Michael Winchester to be my husband. In richer times and poorer, in sickness and in health, through good times and bad, until death parts us." The priest nods and turns to Dean, but Castiel continues. "Maybe even then, though."

Dean stares. He can barely breathe.

Castiel sways towards him slightly. "We've been through a lot, you and I. We've been through too much. So, I don't want to stand here in God's house and jinx our marriage by saying I'll leave you... leave _this_ , just because of something as normal as death. I'm not going to think about that today, or ever. We're a family now. We are _always_ going to be a family. I will protect you, and Claire, and myself. I'll watch out for us. I'll keep us healthy, safe. And I will do it all happily because you'll be with me. That's my promise to you, Dean Winchester. And it's eternal. That's how much I love you." He takes Dean's platinum wedding ring out of his pocket and carefully slides it over his mate's finger without being prompted to. He already knows it's the right time.

Dean beams at him. Now it's his turn and he's ready. As long as he doesn't have to try and parrot back what the priest wants him to say.

So before the poor guy can get rolling again, Dean says, "I Dean Michael Winchester, take you, Castiel I-Just-Forgot-Your-Middle-Name-Because-I'm-Still-Panicking Novak, to be my husband. Through all that stuff you said at the beginning, and forever. I still don't care about the flowers, but your mom was right; they're pretty. I love you, and that's all that really matters, right?"

He steps towards Castiel and now they're toe-to-toe. I'm gonna be with you no matter what. I love Claire, too, and I'll protect her with my life. With everything I've got. I'll help her become a better woman as she grows up. I'll help you become a better man. I'll help myself be the best person I'm capable of being for all of us. I know I'm not into feelings talks, but this might be the only time I can do it. So, I'm just gonna say it all. This is the rest of our lives, and I'm happy. So, _so_ happy. Excited. Maybe a little scared. Cas... Castiel. You gave me a million chances to get to know you. I was a jerk about it for a long time, but you were _there_. You saw something at least worth friendship, and you're the reason that we are able to stand here together today. So... like... _thank you_ , okay? Thank you for giving me everything."

Castiel dips his head, nodding and fighting back his tears as Dean slips a matching platinum ring over his knuckle.

The priest clears his throat. "I now pronounce you husbands with all the rights and privileges that the union grants. By the power vested in me by God and the state of Maine, you are married. You may now kiss to seal your vows."

Now _that's_ something they can get behind. Dean and Castiel move at the same time, lips meeting. Castiel tastes salty, and Dean's pretty sure he's about to be the same if this continues on any longer. But then there is cheering and clapping, and then something is crashing into their knees.

Castiel and Dean pull apart to find Claire hugging them both as hard as she can. Dean reaches down and picks her up, swinging her into his arms and carrying her down the aisle with Castiel beside him, the rest of their family and friends following behind.

xxXXxx

The reception is definitely something to remember. In fact, Dean almost feels sorry for the cleanup that Gabriel's employees are going to have to tackle when they're finished.

There's food and dancing until dark, and then the guests begin to leave with their final well-wishes. Naomi and Cain take Claire with them when she starts to droop after too much partying and no naps. Dean shakes Cain's hand, endures endless hugs from the rest of his families, and then they're done with their obligations.

Castiel wastes no more time after that getting Dean to the opulent suite on the top floor that neither one of them takes the time to appreciate as they divest themselves and each other of their rented tuxes.

Castiel dives into Dean's neck as soon as it's exposed, mouthing over his scarred gland. "You looked so good in this tuxedo that I kept forgetting to blink whenever I looked at you," he growls, working his lips over every inch of Dean's shoulders.

"Am I going to Hell after having impure thoughts about messing up your hair the whole ceremony?" Dean muses as he finally gets his hands into Castiel's carefully styled hair, gabbing on and tugging him closer.

Castiel moans. "God forgives."

"That's great," Dean mumbles, brain already fogging over as he undoes every button on Castiel's tuxedo, trying his best not to break them because he's stingy enough to want the deposit back. "Can I be inside you?"

It's a bigger question than what it sounds like. All this time, and Dean has still never knotted Castiel. He knows what a big deal it is, of course. It had been a little frightening when he'd first experienced it, but then exhilarating. Plus, he loves it when Castiel does it to him, so no pressure. But tonight, it's special. And maybe it's time. He's been able to do other things. Opening Castiel up. Making him squirm. Finding that sweet spot over and over. It's blissful. For the both of them.

Castiel pauses at the question and Dean almost takes it back. He wants the rest of the night to be like the day; special and full of love with no second guesses.

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean's neck. "Yes, of course," he says. "You've been so patient with me getting used to it."

Dean puts their foreheads together. "You don't have to just for my sake. You've given me plenty already."

"I want to," Castiel says. Slowly, he slips out of Dean's embrace to walk back to the bed. He picks up the slick unpacked on the end table. No condoms. "Dean, I want you to knot me."

The words almost undo him completely, but Dean keeps it together enough to be fully there when Castiel holds his gaze and takes off his pants. Shucks off his jacket and unbuttoned shirt. Removes his underwear. Fully naked now. He's gorgeous, glowing in the soft light in the room.

Dean divests himself quickly, still watching Castiel as the other alpha sits on the bed. Luxuriates against the pillows. Spreads his legs. 

Dean sucks in a breath. "Cas," he murmurs. "I'm so grateful for you."

In answer, Castiel covers his fingers in slick and carefully begins to open himself up for Dean.

He watches for as long as he can, frozen in place. Castiel flushes under his own hands as he slides his fingers in and out of his loosening hole. Stroking his dick in long movements. Dean takes himself in hand as well, matching Castiel's pace as best as he can. It's a losing battle, though. The mating pheromones are thick in the air, overtaking their hindbrains with need.

Finally, Castiel removes his fingers and uses a tissue to wipe off the the excess slick. "I need you to get over here," he says.

There's not another option. Dean crawls up the bed between Castiel's spread legs until his dick is pressed almost exactly where he's burning to go. "You sure?" he asks again. He needs to hear it, though he knows the answer.

"Knot me," Castiel answers.

Yes, oh yes. That's exactly what he's going to do. His mate is demanding it, craving it, and he has to respond. He wraps his arms around behind Castiel's knees, drawing them up. Always helpful, Castiel reaches down and takes Dean's dick in his hand, guiding him and slicking him up. As soon as he's breached, a low, primal growl starts in his chest. Dean stops an inch in, but that only makes Castiel louder and he bucks his hips.

They both gasp as Dean bottoms out, fully buried inside his mate. His _husband_. It's more than he has words to describe. Castiel's hole flutters around him, internal muscles clenching at the invasion.

"Cas, babe, relax for me," Dean begs in a strangled voice. He shuts his eyes, overwhelmed and trying to stay calm and not come right then. It's not time yet. He focuses on his breathing and on Castiel's milky scent. Gradually, his body begins to relax and so does Castiel's. Dean breathes out one last time and Castiel sighs, edged with a tiny whine.

"Please, Dean. Oh, god, please do it."

It's all the permission he needs. Dean withdraws only slightly before thrusting back in as gently as he can. Castiel clenched around him again, but not painfully, and he relaxes again almost immediately. Another small thrust. And then another. And then Dean's bum knee twinges in protest, so he shifts just a little. The angle is just enough, though. Castiel cries out. "There! Fuck, right there!"

There. Right there. Hitting that sensitive spot inside him becomes dean's mission in life. Over and over. Castiel's blunt nails dig hard into Dean's forearms. He's got to come first, though. It's easier that way.

"Touch yourself," Dean gasps. "You gotta come for me. I won't... I won't last. Shit, Cas, come for me."

The pressure on his left arm releases as Castiel starts to jack himself off with quick, rough strokes. His whole body begins to tremble and suddenly Castiel stops stroking himself in favor of rhythmically massaging his growing knot. "Now!" he shouts.

Dean withdraws almost completely and thrusts back in hard, his knot nearly catching. Castiel cries out again and then he comes. Dean rides his aftershocks desperately, only able to thrust just enough to barely move his hips as his knot begins to swell. Castiel is chanting his name over and over.

In the next stroke, Dean's knot takes. He grinds down and instinctively, Castiel clenches, forcing out Dean's orgasm. 

It's more than he'd been prepared for. Buried in Castiel's heat, shaking, trying not to black out. He really doesn't want to miss a second of this gift.

Castiel slides his hands up, gently caressing the back of Dean's head. They're pressed together solidly. Dean reaches out and takes Castiel's left hand, bringing it to his lips. He kisses the ring so many times that he loses count. When he's finally able to open his eyes, Castiel is staring at him with a kind of wonder. "I love you," he says like he can't even believe it. "I'm so glad we're married."

"Me, too," Dean answers breathlessly. "You're the most of everything, Cas."

**7:00 am Monday, August 28, Halcyon, Maine**

"Jesus Christ," Dean hollers across the house. "Can't we _ever_ get out the door on time?!"

"Language!" Castiel calls back as he rushes by, tie askew, hold his hand out. Dean passes him his travel mug of coffee as he hurries by and keeps his post calmly at the front door. "Shoes!" Castiel yells.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dean mutters to himself, "you wouldn't lose them if you put them in the damn shoe rack I made."

"Language!" Claire admonishes as she plops onto the floor and grabs her own shoes. 

Dean rolls his eyes. At least Claire is dressed properly. "Where's your backpack?" he asks.

Clearly, it's the wrong question. "Dunno!" she chirps. 

Fuck's sake. "Lunch box?"

Claire shrugs.

Dean makes a noise of frustration and stomps from his post into the kitchen. He catches another glimpse of Castiel going down the hall and yells, "backpack!"

"Dammit. I'm on it!" Footsteps pound up the stairs.

Claire's voice joins Dean when they loudly answer, " _language_!"

The lunch box is on the kitchen table, packed and ready, thankfully. Dean swipes it up and carries it back out, nearly crashing into Castiel as he runs down the stairs with her backpack and without his coffee. They pause, smiling wryly at each other, but the moment is lost when Claire screams, "bus! Daddy! Bus! Dad! Bus!"

"We hear you!" Castiel and Dean say nearly in unison. Then it's a sprint because, sure enough, the long yellow school bus is coming right around the bend in the road. Dean hauls out the backpack and the lunch box. Castiel has Claire's light jacket. Claire has speed as she races down the driveway. They make it just in time. Claire barely glances back as she climbs the steps up, and Dean reaches in to hand off her supplies.

"Have a good one, Claire-bear," he says affectionately.

She hops down the two stairs again and hugs Dean around his waist. "Love you, Dad." Next is Castiel. "Love you!" It's over in a moment and she runs back up the stairs.

Dean steps back and raises a hand to the bus driver.

The doors swing shut.

Castiel presses his shoulder against Dean's as they watch it pull away. Castiel's roiling pheromones make Dean's nose run a little. There's almost every emotion imaginable in it. Of course, by the way his throat tightens, he's pretty sure he doesn't smell much better. He slings an arm around Castiel's shoulders, gives him a squeeze, kisses his temple roughly.

"I changed my mind," Castiel says softly, voice thick. "I don't want to go to work today. I think we should..." he trails off.

Dean turns them back towards the house, keeping Castiel latched to his side. "You're right. I told you it'd be hard."

"I didn't expect her to be so excited to run off from us," he says vaguely.

"It's a new adventure," Dean says, noticing that they'd even left the door open accidentally in their rush out. "She's brave and you've been talking to her all summer about how awesome kindergarten was gonna be. Be happy that she's probably gonna turn into a big, academic nerd like you!"

Castiel laughs and it's watery. "I hope so." He tosses his tie onto the top of the shoe cabinet and kicks off his loafers on his way to the bedroom. Dean, as is the ritual that annoys him, picks up the shoes and puts them neatly into their respective cubbies. By the time he gets back into the bedroom, Castiel is splayed out in his boxers and undershirt, face buried in his pillow. Dean also picks up the discarded clothes and drapes them over the lounge chair by the window, giving Castiel a moment to let himself mourn the end of another life stage.

The light on Castiel's cell phone is blinking where it rests next to his elbow. Dean picks it up and swipes the screen on. It's a text from Pamela saying he'd better take a mental health day or else.

He puts the phone back down and moves to leave the room and give Castiel his privacy, but Castiel's hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, dragging. Dean willingly comes to the edge of the bed and Castiel is on him suddenly, clinging around his waist and crying silently. Dean wraps one arm around his mate's shoulders and his other hand goes to Castiel's hair, stroking gently. "You okay?"

"No," Castiel mutters. "Claire's growing up."

Despite his octopussing, Dean manages to maneuver himself so he's sitting on the bed. But that's not quite good enough for Castiel, who manhandles him until Dean is on his back, Castiel's head on his chest. "We should be happy about that," Dean says softly.

Castiel sniffles. "Why?"

"Because... it means you did good, Cas. Come on, man! How many kids are gonna be like her? Probably fucking none, okay? She's brave, and smart, and excited to learn, and happy, and healthy, and you did that. Three years of that all by yourself. Claire's gonna kick ass and take names. That's something to be happy about."

He tilts Castiel's chin up and kisses him briefly. "Cas, Claire ain't going down a bad path here. She's gonna need you more than ever, okay? Who else is better qualified to teach her about life and help with her homework and stuff? That's all you."

Castiel put his finger to Dean's lips, forestalling anything else. "You're so wrong," he says forcefully with an angry expression.

That's... unexpected. "Mmh?" Dean tries to say.

Castiel takes his hand away. "Giving me all the credit, as usual. Don't you see how much Claire is like _you_?"

He doesn't want to if it's gonna make him cry. It's probably gonna make him cry.

Castiel knows it, though. His expression softens with his reverent voice. "Her bravery is from you. Her optimism. Her independence. And probably also that swear word she said yesterday."

Dean laughs helplessly. He'll take the blame for that one because it's true. It was pretty creative, too. He gave her silent, outwardly disapproving props.

Castiel rests his head down again, tracing absent patterns on Dean's shirt. "You're her father as much as I am. I don't want you to keep distancing yourself from that to save Amelia's memory. I know that's what you've been doing, but you shouldn't. It's my responsibility to tell Claire about her mother and fill in the blanks that she may not even know she has. But it's also my job to make sure that her living parents are just as important."

"Cas," Dean says. It's definitely making him cry.

Castiel lifts his head up again. "She calls you 'Dad.' Because that's what you are. Live up to that and take responsibility for the gift you're giving her, and accept the one she's giving you. It's okay to see yourself in her."

Dean catches Castiel in a bone crushing hug. He hadn't known he'd needed permission, but now that he has it, everything slots into place beautifully. He's longed to be a proper father to Claire, and a proper husband to Castiel, but he knows he's held something back. Tiny, maybe, but he's always let Castiel call the shots first where Claire is involved. Unconsciously, certainly. He's never even thought about it. But now he knows how much his husband _wants_ all of this to be even more solid. Wants this family just as it is.

"I didn't want her to get on that bus so fucking happily, either," he finally admits softly. "I miss her already."

Castiel smiles in response and kisses him gently. He places his left hand over Dean's heart. "She's right in there, Dean Winchester. So am I."

"Yeah, " Dean answers. "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you all for your kudos and comments. They've honestly meant the world to me. And keep them coming if you have any final thoughts! I always read them and respond.
> 
> Also, stay tuned for the next part of the Our Home Below 'verse, which will be Sam and Gabriel's love story! <3


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